


The Rebel's Ascension

by InArlathan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Arlathan (Dragon Age), Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Blood and Violence, Dragon Age Lore, Drama, Dread Wolf Origin, Drug Use, Elvhen Lore, Elvhen Pantheon, Elvhenan, Elvhenan Culture and Customs, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intrigue, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, Speculations On Pre-Veil Magic, Speculations on Elven History, Tags Are Hard, The Blight (Dragon Age), Threats of Violence, Titans (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InArlathan/pseuds/InArlathan
Summary: "I was Solas first. Fen'Harel came later."In the days of ancient Arlathan: Solas wanders the world as Mythal's loyal servant when a series of attacks happen across the elven empire and the Evanuris task him with finding and killing the creature responsible. It doesn't take long for Solas to find out that each of the gods has plans of their own. While Andruil has returned from the wilds wielding a darker kind of magic, Dirthamen and June try to trace the origin of her new power. Soon, Solas is faced with a terrible choice. One that will lead to open rebellion against the Evanuris.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Character(s), Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 134
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, I'm glad you are joining me on this epic journey! <3 
> 
> This is an origin story for Solas that describes how he goes from being a loyal servant of Mythal to taking on the role of Fen'Harel and becoming the leader of the slave rebellion. Expect a lot of hot takes on elven lore, plus myriad headcanons to mend it all together. 
> 
> A big THANK YOU to [thelittlestfische](https://thelittlestfische.tumblr.com) who supports me as a beta-reader.
> 
> Happy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two boys play in the catacombs and meet a mysterious wanderer.

> _ “Andruil, blood and force, save us from the time this weapon is thrown.  
_ _ Your people pray to You. Spare us the moment we become Your sacrifice.” _
> 
> _ – Codex entry: _ [ _ Unreadable elven writing _ ](https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Unreadable_Elven_Writing)

Kar’len and Thenriel loved to play in the catacombs. Amidst the ancient stones, they were free of the lectures of their parents and could enjoy a moment of rest and respite without thinking about their duties. Besides that, the burial site had proven to be the ideal place for a game of hide-and-seek.

Thenriel had always been quite good at hiding. He‘d learned to cut his conscious connection to the Beyond to mask his aura, making it much harder for other clan members to find him. Even Kar’len who was only a few years younger than his brother had to focus on the magic around him to notice the fading quiver of emotions his brother left behind wherever he went. Down here, among the tombs, it was even harder. The pain of loss pervaded the air, lingering on even when those who mourned their elders had long since left.

He sighed and ducked next to a large stone bed with white sheets on it. For a moment, he regarded the lace-trimmed fabric as if he had never seen it before. Underneath the sheet lay a woman of slender built. Her hair was decked with a wreath of white lilies, and a veil covered her face. She had entered uthenera long before Kar’len had been born and her name would’ve been lost to time if it hadn’t been for the keeper’s restless efforts to preserve the memory of her and the other Dreamers. Still, Kar’len wondered what had happened to the woman that had made her so weary of the Waking World.

_ At least dreaming is better than dying, _ Kar’len thought.

About a week ago, a group of hunters had ventured out into the surrounding forest to bring home the much-needed supply of fresh meat and pelts. When they didn’t return after three nights, the keeper had sent a scouting party to find the missing clan members. They returned with the devastating news that the hunters had been killed. By whom, the scouts would not tell. They had been so afraid of what they’d found in the forest that they’d rather not speak of it.

Kar’len felt a cold shiver crawling down his spine. He didn’t share a blood relation with any of the hunters, but to think of their dead bodies lay scattered in the undergrowth infused him with a sense of fear. Had they been able to enter uthenera? Or had they simply perished?

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. There was no point in worrying about things that could not be changed. At least his father would say so. Besides, he had to be careful, or his emotions would attract the attention of Grief and Sorrow, the two spirits that helped the keeper tend to the Eternal Dreamers. They would ruin the brothers’ game and chase them off.

Kar’len drew himself upright and snuck to the end of the stone bed. From there, he could overlook most of the stone chamber. Its high walls ended in pointed arches that crisscrossed overhead. The ceiling was interlaced with colored glass that allowed the golden glimmer of the afternoon sun to stream inside. The stone pillars that carried the ceiling showed reliefs of oak trees and were embellished with hares and hawks, accompanied by a variety of owl statues that towered over the sleeping elvhen.

Amidst the chamber of it stood an ancient eluvian. Someone once told him that the mirror had been placed there by the Lady Andruil herself to allow her people access to the farthest regions of Elvhenan where they could hunt freely and make a life for themselves. If this was true, Kar’len wouldn’t have been able to tell. All clan members who could testify to the story lay dreaming forever in these silent catacombs. And since the last of them had been put to rest two centuries ago, the eluvian had been dark.

Except that it wasn’t.

Kar’len couldn’t believe his eyes. It seemed like the old looking glass had begun to light up – slowly, but smoothly. Like dusty motes, the magic of the skies danced across the eluvian’s surface to answer to a call from the other side.

“Thenriel!”, he cried and sprang to his feet.

His brother emerged between two stone beds three rows down on the other side of the chamber. He looked at Kar’len, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. “Giving up already?”

Kar’len opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he pointed at the giant mirror in the middle of the room and watched as the silvery surface turned into rippling magic.

Thenriel gasped, stumbled backward, and then rushed to his brother’s side. He grabbed Kar’len’s right arm and squeezed it. “Ouch,” the younger brother exclaimed, but Thenriel commanded him to stay silent. He dragged his brother towards the archway that marked the entrance to the stone chamber, ready to make a run for it. Only their endless curiosity held them back from fleeing back to the village.

They watched a shape appear on the other side of the eluvian, dark and dangerous against the moving surface of the mirror. Kar’len inhaled sharply when a tall man with broad shoulders finally came through.

He wore humble, homespun clothing — green pants and a beige tunic, combined with a long coat the color of grass. His feet were bare, as was the custom, but he had strapped on wrappings and shin guards. Both were caked with dust and dirt, a testament to his wandering ways.

Kar’len gaped at the man. His face was obscured by a hood, yet something about him told him that he was spirit-born. Allowing his mind to drift back into the Beyond, Kar’len could see the man’s aura swirling around him. It felt crisp and sharp and incredibly ancient as if it was fueled by countless centuries of knowledge and experience. Only spirit-born had that kind of effect on the Beyond. He knew because their keeper was one of them. Even in perfect darkness, with only the skies to guide him, Kar’len would’ve been able to rule her out from the rest of the clan. And this man – this wanderer – felt just like her.

Once he’d asked the keeper why her connection to the skies differed from his own, and in that moment, he could practically hear the old woman’s voice again.

“You and your brother were conceived in the flesh, born from your mother’s womb. She and your father created your bodies from their own to harbor your spiritual essence. We spirit-born don’t come into this world so easily. We have endured the Passage, crafting our bodies from magic and matter to fulfill our purpose,“ the keeper had told him.

“Don’t I have a purpose? Doesn’t Thenriel?” Kar’len had asked.

The keeper had smiled at that. “You‘re here to serve the people and bring joy to your family. There’s nothing more you need to do.”

“But…”

“That are more than enough questions for one day, little one. Go to sleep now.”

The man didn’t notice Kar’len and his brother at first. He looked around carefully, his hands clasped behind his back, and studied the sleeping elvhen that dwelled in the Eternal Dream.

Kar’len‘s gaze flicked to Thenriel. “What do we do now?”

That’s when they heard footsteps coming down from the main entrance.

Kar’len turned around just in time to see Tiamar stepping down the stairs that led to the catacombs. She was First to the clan’s keeper and barely two decades older than Thenriel but she had already grown into adulthood. Her hair was so blond it was almost white and the bright lines of Andruil’s vallaslin shimmered ghostly on her pale skin.

Tiamar was accompanied by Grief, the blue haze of a spirit that was vaguely shaped like an elvhen. The spirit said something to the First that Kar’len couldn’t understand, but he picked up on Grief’s lethargic voice.

“That’s impossible,” Tiamar said. “The eluvian hasn’t been used in centuries. What you have felt must have been an illusion, a quiver in the Beyond. I wonder–”

When she beheld Kar’len and Thenriel, she stopped dead and put her hands on her hips. Grief lingered by her side.

“What are you two doing down here?” she asked and eyed the brothers disapprovingly.

“Hi Tia,” Thenriel greeted her with an embarrassed smile.

“Where you playing hide-and-seek again?” she asked. “Have you no respect for the Dreamers?”

Thenriel shrugged, then gestured towards the sleeping bodies around them. “It’s not like they care or anything.”

Tiamar was about the start an argument, when behind them, the wanderer cleared his throat.

Kar’len and the others turned to him in a singular movement.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves,” the man said and offered a warm smile, “but may I interrupt your friendly conversation for a moment?”

None of them knew what to make of the wanderer, and so they said nothing.

“I take that as a ‘yes’,” the man said, still smiling enigmatically.

His voice was deep, yet soft and velvety. From his accent, Kar’len assumed that he hailed from Arlathan or a province in close proximity to the capital city. He spoke like every sentence was part of a secret melody that only he could hear.

Tiamar was the first to find her voice again. “You’re the envoy!” she blurted. “Thank the gods! The keeper will be happy to see you. She’s been waiting impatiently since she dispatched the messenger to the high keeper.”

The wanderer blinked.

“Really?”, he asked.

Tiamar shifted on her feet. “Sure_ . _ She sent word to Arlathan that she needs someone to look at… to look at…”

Her voice trailed off.

“To look at what?” the man asked with raised eyebrows.

As Tiamar remained silent, Grief stepped in to answer in her stead. “The bodies, my friend. Dead hunters that were killed by the Black Dread.”

Kar’len saw the wanderer’s face fall. The man’s worry reflected in the Beyond as a cold wave that made him shiver. He’d never met someone capable of such intense emotions before. How many spirits had been created by his feelings? How many more were drawn to him?

“So, the village has been attacked as well,” the man muttered to himself, turning his eyes to the stone ground beneath his bare feet. His brows furrowed.

Kar’len looked from the man to Thenriel to Tiamar and back again. Although he knew about the dead hunters, he’d never heard about something called the Black Dread before. It sounded… perilous. And extremely exciting.

“Can you tell me where we are?” the wanderer asked.

The First frowned. “We’re in the Southern Reach. In the Brecilian Forest, to be exact.”

“Andruil’s old hunting ground,” the man said, using the old name for the region. “Of course.”

Tiamar gave him a quizzical look. 

“I’m sorry. You must think me terribly rude,” the man said apologetically and placed one hand on his chest. “My name is Solas. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m Tiamar,” the First said and gestured towards the spirit by her side. “This is Grief. We tend to the Dreamers in the name of the Lady Andruil.”

“My name is Thenriel.” His brother added and regarded the wanderer suspiciously. “I’m a farmer, like my mother and father and their parents before them. And this is my brother, Kar’len.”

The man’s gaze flicked to him, lips pursed in a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Enter this place in peace,” Kar’len said, because a formal greeting was the only thing his mind could come up with. A moment later, he realized that he’d forgotten the proper address to go with the greeting. Bowing his head to hide the flash of red that began to color his cheeks, he added, “Elder.”

“No need to stand on ceremony,” the man named Solas said. “I’m here to serve the People, which includes you.”

_ That can’t be true, _Kar’len thought. 

All his life, his elders had told him that to serve the Lady Andruil was to serve the People. That was why the clan plowed the fields, mined the ground and hunted the animals in the forest. They did it to provide for the high keeper who safeguarded the Brecilian Forest in Andruil’s stead. And in turn, the noblewoman gave them counsel and spoke to the gods on their behalf. That was how it has always been...

“Come, I will take you to the keeper,” Tiamar said. “She can tell you more about the recent events.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Solas replied.

“I will stay and take care of the Dreamers,” Grief announced to the First. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Of course,” Tiamar nodded, then turned back to the wanderer. “Follow me, please.”


	2. Black Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas learns more about the recent attacks on an elven village in the Brecilian Forest.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

The children brought Solas to an accumulation of wooden huts in the middle of a forest. Most of them had been created by magical means, making the roots and branches of the trees grow into intricate buildings that were overgrown with ivy. Echoes of the spells that had created them lingered on as a soft flicker in the Beyond. Only some buildings had been erected from earth and stone. He could see silos filled with grain and other goods, a few workshops, a smithery, and a hall of contemplation where the clan could meet.

The village hadn’t been there the last time he had roamed this part of the empire but Solas recognized the sensation of tingling magic on his skin that originated from the forest around it. The Beyond was dense here, easy to access. It always had been. Once, the Great Huntress Andruil had stalked the animals of these woods and sacrificed them to provide for her People. Now her loyal clan had cleared out rectangular fields in the forest where crops and other plants grew. But apart from that, the area remained secluded and wild, as it has been since the founding of Elvhenan.

When the group arrived back at the village, people started glancing their way, curious about the wanderer that accompanied Tiamar and the two boys. All of them wore Andruil’s vallaslin. Yet, the blood writing couldn’t hide the weather-beaten skin, nor the deep shadows under their eyes as a result of millennia of servitude to the Great Huntress.

Solas was glad he had decided to keep his hood up to hide the white lines of Mythal’s vallaslin on his forehead. It was better for the villagers to think he was an envoy sent by their high keeper or even Andruil herself. It would help to restore their faith in the mighty Evanuris that ruled over this part of the world, even if their goddess had long abandoned them.

Now, the younger boy – the one named Kar’len – looked at Solas with big eyes. “Is it true the people in Arlathan can make their hair turn into different colors and shift into animal form whenever they like?”

“Kar’len!” Tiamar hissed. “Shut up!”

But despite the First’s efforts to silence the boy, he kept his eyes on Solas and waited for him to answer his questions.

Solas smiled. It was remarkable how quickly Kar’len had picked up on his place of origin. The boy clearly had an eye for details and enough curiosity to uncover them all. 

_ He would be an excellent painter, _ he thought. _ Or an impeccable spy. _

“As a matter of fact, they can,” he answered. “As could you, given you receive the proper magical training. As long as your connection to the skies is thorough and you have a clear image of yourself in mind, you may choose any form you like. You could have pink feathers or translucent scales covering your body if you wished it so.”

Kar’len’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“And what would that be good for, brother?” asked Thenriel with a disgruntled face. “Feathers and scales don’t make the crops grow faster. Better use your magic to cleanse the soil and keep parasites of the Felandris fields.”

_ So young and already so eager to live the small dreams someone else has designed for him. Pity! _

“There are many ways to use magic and make a difference in the world,” Solas said in a cheerful tone.

“Can you turn into a dragon?” Kar’len asked.

Solas chuckled. “No, nor shall I try. The divine form is the privilege of the gods.”

“This is it,” Tiamar announced and thus ended their conversation. “The keeper’s hut. I will tell her of your arrival.”

Solas turned his attention to the building. Ivy, moss, and rashvines covered the intertwined roots that formed its walls. Going by the faint flicker of energy that danced around the hut, he assumed that the hut was older than any other building in the village.

The keeper’s First waited a moment, then approached the door that was built into the roots and slipped inside.

“Well, it seems this is where we part ways,” Solas said to the young boys. “I thank you for your assistance.”

“It was nothing!” Kar’len replied hastily. His eyes were practically gleaming with curiosity. “We’re glad you came here.”

The boys looked like he wanted to say more but his brother grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him away. “Safe journey, Elder,” Thenriel said as he led Kar’len away from the hut. “It was nice and all.” He gave his brother a shove and hissed a rather rude command in his general direction. Kar’len snarled and tore himself loose but he remained by Thenriel’s side.

Solas sighed and took a moment to watch the boys leave. Kar’len’s hunger for knowledge reminded him of himself. Or a version of him. One that had been eager and naive enough to seek out the waking world deliberately to learn more about its wonders.

Inside the hut, he could hear Tiamar talk. The voice of a woman answered and a moment later the First opened the door to let him in. Solas thanked her and went inside.

The keeper turned out to be a woman of remarkable age. Solas could sense her presence in the Beyond like a beacon lighting the way for ships returning to the harbor in the dark. He wondered if she had been alive during the Great War as he had. Probably not, otherwise the post of high keeper would not have passed on to another. But she couldn’t be much younger than that. He could see the wisdom in her eyes.

_ The clan is lucky to have such a knowledgeable woman as their keeper. _

“Thank you, Tiamar,” the keeper said. “You may leave us now. Please close the door on your way out.”

The young woman bowed to her keeper, then backed away. Solas waited until he heard the lock snap.

The older woman turned to him, her hands clasped in front of her. “Enter this place in peace,” she said formally. “My name is Sabrae. I welcome you. It is so good of you to come. We have been waiting to hear from Arlathan for quite a while now.”

“Thank you, my friend, though I must admit that it was mere coincidence that brought me here. I was wandering through the Crossroads when a peculiar change in the Beyond drew my attention to the eluvian of your clan.”

The keeper blinked at that, utterly surprised by his words.

“The high keeper didn’t send you?”

“No.”

“But when you’re not with the Lady Andruil, who–?”

That was when Solas drew back his hood, revealing his face to the older woman.

The keeper inhaled sharply when she saw the blood writing on his face. “You are–”, she blurted, searching for the right words. She fell to her knees despite her age and pressed her hands to the ground before her in a gesture of deference. “Mythal’s blessing! I never expected to see one of the All-Mother’s champions roaming these lands.”

Solas smiled warmly and kneeled before her. Reaching out to her, touching her chin with his hand, he said, “You don’t need to bow before me, my friend.”

The older woman looked at him as if he’d gone quite mad.

“Neither Andruil nor Mythal have sent me here but I have come to offer my aid,” he said. “Please tell me about the burden you’re bearing and I will do my best to help you carry it.”

Sabrae nodded slowly. Solas held out his hand to help her stand, and she took it reluctantly.

She sighed. “There have been... attacks, recently.”

“So I have heard,” Solas replied. “Your First said that you wanted an envoy to look at the dead hunters from your clan.”

“Indeed.”

“May I asked what‘s so devastating that a resourceful woman such as yourself would turn to Andruil for help? What is so peculiar about these attacks?”

Sabrae wrung her hands, considering her answer for a moment. For a moment, she looked frightened, haunted by the memory of what had transpired in the forest. Solas could feel the emotion like a frosty chill lingering in the air.

“It’s best if I show you,” she told him at last.

* * *

The keeper made arrangements with her First to safeguard the village before Sabrae and Solas ventured into the Brecilian Forest. The shadows had begun to grow larger as the sun slowly set in the West. Streaks of golden light came in low between the lush foliage of the Forest. In the distance, Solas could make out the remains of abandoned fields that have been all but reclaimed by nature. He smelled wet earth and rotting leaves as Sabrae led him farther and farther away from the village.

Soon enough, the sunlight vanished and gave way to the dark of night, forcing them to conjure balls so flaming light to find their way. Shadows the size of oak trees moved in the dark and a soft oozing sound pervaded the air.

Sabrae caught Solas peeking out into the forest. “The sylvans are our allies,” she reassured him. “We provide them with food and fresh water that we place outside the village for them to collect after nightfall. In exchange, they stay away from the fields we plow in the name of the Lady Andruil and help us guard the forest against enemies.”

“And yet your hunters wound up dead,” Solas noted.

The keeper sighed. “They did.”

“Are you sure that the hunters have not fallen prey to the sylvans after all?”

Sabrae shook her head. “The Mother Tree and I have sealed our alliance with magic. As long as we live, we are bound to keep the peace. They would never hurt one of my clan.”

“I see.”

Solas sighed. As much as the nobility of Arlathan liked to praise the superiority over other creatures of the waking world, alliances like these weren’t unheard of in the outskirts of the empire. All the time he had spent wandering on behalf of Mythal, he had seen more than one village broker deals with roaming spirits that had taken one form or another. More often than not, these alliances were necessary to protect villages and strongholds from deadlier foes. The armies of Elgar’nan were not enough to cover the entirety of Elvhenan and since the Great War, their number of its soldiers were dwindling. 

Still, he had hoped that the sylvans had broken their promise and killed the hunters in cold blood. It would have been an easy explanation. One that didn’t make his stomach churn with revulsion.

_ If this really was the Black Dread’s doing _ , he thought to himself, watching Sabrae’s back as the keeper led him down an old hunting path, _ the People are all in terrible danger. _

A short while later they reached a clearing in the forest that was surrounded by old huts in various stages of disarray. Solas could see that the homes had been abandoned in blind haste. The sensation of fear and terror lingered on.

“This was our home before the attacks happened”, Sabrae told him. “When the hunters told us that something dangerous is roaming the land, we left behind what we could not carry and relocated everyone in the village from which the two of us came. The hunters stayed behind and stalked the woods, setting up spirit traps in case it was just an inception gone wrong. We…” She held her breath for a moment, then released it slowly. “_ I _ am usually careful to follow the rites to ensure now malformed spirits come into existence but Andruil’s long absence has had my clan worried.”

“You think it was enough to create a spirit of Fear?” Solas asked, remembering his earlier encounter with the grief spirit down in the catacombs. 

“I’m not certain. If it is, it uses magic unlike any spirit I’ve ever encountered. It strikes terror in the heart of the People. That’s why we gave it its name: the Black Dread.”

And with that, she led him to a field behind the old hut she used to inhabit. Once she might have grown herbs and spices for use in potions and tonics but the plants had withered and died. Where they had grown, six bodies lay, their flesh stripped from their bones. What little remained of them way charred beyond recognition.

Solas fought back the urge to gag as the smell of burnt flesh and death hit him. 

_ There nothing in this world that prepares you for that kind of smell, _ he thought as he stepped closed and pressed the back of one hand against his mouth and nose. _ Not even a century of servitude to Falon’Din. _

He kneeled to have a closer look, yet kept a respectful distance for Sabrae’s sake. Ever since they had reached the clearing, her face had gone paler by the minute. She pressed her hands against her stomach and her lips were pressed into a fine line. Solas could hardly blame her for her distress.

“Have you seen something like this before?” she asked.

Solas took another look at the corpse before, assessing the black bones carefully before answering. “Indeed I have,” he admitted.

“I’m not sure if this is reassuring,” Sabrae said, “or even more alarming.”

“I feel the same way.” Solas got back to his feet and stepped away from the corpses. “Other villages on the fringes of the empire have been attacked just like yours. That is why I was traveling the Crossroads. When I started hearing about the first attacks, I came to offer help. The dead always looked the same. At first, I too thought this was a spirit‘s doing, a malformation perhaps, but this threat has taken to many lives in too many regions. One singular spirit does not yield this much power over the waking world. Except ...”

Sabrae looked at him. His own trouble reflected on her face.

“Except the spirit attempted the Passage,” she finished the sentence for him. “Could that be possible?”

“I don’t think so,” Solas replied. “Since that nasty business with the Forbidden Ones, Elgar’nan and his soldiers have a close eye on the vortexes in the Beyond where such a powerful spirit could form. Besides, there is one more thing that is not adding up.”

He turned to face Sabrae, gesturing towards the corpses she laid to rest in her old garden. “Why are the dead not in the catacombs? Surely you have dedicated resting places for those who don’t find perfection in the Eternal Dream.”

He knew the answer but he asked anyway. He’d heard it over and over again as he learned more about the taint that had befallen his kind. 

“The bodies, they were empty. Like their spiritual essence had been drained. I don't know how to explain it,” the keeper told him. “I was afraid that it would spread among the remaining clan members.”

Just as he expected. Not matter where he went, all the keepers had insisted to burn or bury the bodies as far away from the settlements as possible without endangering their clans to make sure that whatever had happened to their warriors could not infect the living. Not even a spirit bound to take a body possessed such a power. Not by a long shot.

Sabrae seemed to realize this as well. The tightness in her features vanished and was replaced by pure shock.

“Gods, help us,” she breathed.

Whatever this was, Solas doubted that this danger would perish on its own. The longer he roamed the empire, the more regions seemed be attacked by this madness. And what had begun as a series of unconnected events now formed a clear pattern. The danger had spread like a dark shadow over the entire southern border and it was only a matter of time until it roamed farther north, where even more of his people lived. 

He needed to learn more about this Black Dread, and quick. 

_ If only Geldauran were here, _he thought and felt a pang of guilt as he thought about his exiled friend. The old god healer would have known what to do. There was only one other being in Elvhenan whose wisdom he valued more and he was not certain she was ready to welcome him back.

Two hundred years had passed since he had last spoken to Mythal. Since Geldauran and his ilk had been banished from the empire, to be exact. The people might see it as a victory that he betrayed the trust of one of his oldest friends and helped the Evanuris drive him out of Arlathan, and the gods might have showered Soals with praise in the aftermath but the memory lingered in his mind and poisoned his thoughts. “You have done the right thing, my friend,” Mythal had told him. “You did nothing wrong.” Solas, however, didn’t not believe her. He simply couldn’t. And so he had left Arlathan behind and had wandered around aimlessly ever since. If it was up to him, he might never return to the capital and its terrible machinations. 

But this… This was much more important than his own feelings. If he himself could not uncover the answer to this mystery, he had to seek out those who could. He would have the debate, persuade, barter. Whatever was necessary. The gods who had thought themselves triumphant over all perils of the earth had been silent for too long. 

Suddenly, Solas felt a wave of warmth wash over his forehead and cheeks. It was a sensation he had all but forgotten, like droplets of water tracing the lines of vallaslin ingrained in his skin. He felt its magic pulling on him, urging him to rise to his feet and leave without even saying goodbye.

And then, there was a whisper.

_ They’re coming for you. _

Solas gasped. 

That was Mythal’s voice!

She hadn’t used the magic of the vallaslin to call out to him for millennia. Usually, she was content to summon him like any other servant by a messenger. Why would she invoke it now? Had she somehow felt his distress? No, not even Mythal was that powerful...

The keeper squinted. “She is talking to you, isn’t she? The All-Mother?”

Solas nodded slowly, trying to keep a straight face.

“I envy you,” she said. “It’s been ages since Lady Andruil has spoken to me directly. These days, she barely sees the need to send the high keeper to us. It must be such a relief to know the All-Mother is always with you.”

Though he understood Sabrae’s disappointment in her chosen goddess, Solas didn’t share her sentiment. Considering the ill counsel the high keepers gave to their subjects, fully justified to use and abuse them as they saw fit, Sabrae and her clan were lucky that Andruil had turned a blind eye on them. Maybe deep down the keeper already knew, or she might have chosen to lead her clan north to live in the safety of the elvhen heartlands. 

None of that he told Sabrae of course. The woman had enough worries on her mind as it was, and he didn’t want to add to the incredible burden she was already bearing.

“We should get back to the village,” he said.


	3. Before The Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Evanuris summon Solas back to Arlathan and give him an impossible task.

> _-3,700 Ancient _

The soldiers already waited for them when Solas and Sabrae returned to the clan village. It was a small company of six, all dressed in heavy armor. The metal plates that covered their bodies were stained in a matte black, with only the trims of the collars, boots, and gauntlets gleaming in gold. When they moved, they looked like the sun slowly sliding to hide behind the moon during an eclipse.

The sudden appearance of the Sun Soldiers had frightened the clan members even more. Most of them had retreated into their homes, watching the warriors from the small windows. All their eyes were on Sabrae when she walked up to the soldiers to introduce herself. Solas followed a few paces behind her.

“Enter this place in peace,” she said. ”My name is Sabrae and I am the keeper of this clan. What is your business here? I don’t want anyone harmed.“

The soldiers turned towards the keeper. The biggest of them stepped forward, one hand resting on the golden hilt of his sword, and sized Sabrae up and down. The captain of the unit, Solas assumed. The man‘s face was obscured by the black blood writing that covered half his face.

“We’re not here for you or your clan,” he declared. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

“Then why have you come?”

The soldier’s gaze turned Solas. “For him. We are here to take him to Arlathan.”

Sabrae straightened her shoulders. “He is an honored guest of my clan, helping me with an investigation. As keeper of this clan, it is my duty to...”

The captain waved Sabrae off. “Yes, yes, I know. This so-called _investigation_ is the entire reason why the All-Father sent us.”

“The All-Father…?” Sabrae blinked and cast a side-glance at Solas. “I don’t understand.”

The Sun Soldier waved at one of his companions. An armored woman stepped forward and extended a scroll to her captain. He took the sealed roll from her and held it out to Solas. “See for yourself.”

Solas took the scroll and drew a tiny amount of magic from the beyond to break the seal that had been used to protect the writing on the parchment. He unrolled it, just as Sabrae conjured a bit of light to help him read.

“It’s a writ of summons,” Solas said. “The gods have called for a gathering. They demand that I speak before the congregation.”

_They must be suspecting something. Why else would they want to speak to me? Why now?_

At least this explained why Mythal used his vallaslin to warn him in advance. She might have heard about the gathering only moments before Elgar’nan dispatched his soldiers to summons Solas. Maybe using the old magic that tied his soul to hers had been the only way for her to contact him in time.

Whatever the reason for the gathering, it aligned perfectly with his own plans. If they wanted to speak to him, the Evanuris spared him the tedious task of coaxing each one of them to take his side in the matter. They would be there, all of them, in Arlathan, just waiting for him. 

“Are you alright?” Sabrae asked.

The soldier captain sneered. “Oh, don’t worry about him. Mythal’s pet enjoys this more than he lets on. Don’t you, Solas? It’s been a while since the masses sang songs about your glorious deeds. You must have missed it to be in the hustle and bustle of it all.”

Sabrae gave Solas an astonished look, her gaze lingering on the white lines of vallaslin that graced his cheeks and forehead.

“You are not just any servant of Mythal’s,” she whispered. “You are _the_ servant. Her trusted advisor. _The Pride of The People_. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Solas sighed, closing and sealing the scroll with his summons. It’s been some time since anyone had referred to him by that particular title. He couldn’t say that he missed it.

“It doesn’t matter now. I have come to aid you, and I did. Now I must take the matter of the Black Dread to the gods. They will know what to do.” In a lower voice, he added. ”Besides, you never asked for my name.”

Even with the warm light of the fireball, Sabrae was still conjuring from the Beyond, he could see a soft blush blooming on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a nice change.” He took her free hand and squeezed it shortly. “I will take this to the Evanuris. They will send help. You’ll see.”

Sabrae blinked, taken aback by his honest demeanor, then twisted her hand to return the squeeze. “Thank you.”

“How very touching,” the captain said and crossed his armored arms before his chest. “Can we conclude this business now? We need to get moving. The gods await us back in Arlathan by midday and they won’t wait forever.”

A quick glance to the East told Solas that sunrise was still a couple of hours away but there was no need to anger the Sun Soldier and his company. 

“I will do as the Evanuris command,” he said and bowed ever so slightly before the captain. “Please take me to them. I will share any knowledge I have that might be of interest to them.”

The soldier huffed. “Save your sweet-talking for the capital. I have a feeling you’ll need it.” 

* * *

The journey back to Arlathan went by without any incidents. The captain and his company kept a polite distance as they encircled Solas and lead him back through the eluvian and into the Crossroads. They jumped between mirrors that marked a short-cut to the capital city. As they walked, Solas revisited years of wandering in his mind. Two-hundred years, and he hadn’t realized how quickly they had gone by. And yet, it hadn’t been enough time to make Sabrae forget the name Mythal had bestowed upon him when he came into this world. No doubt Arlathan had not forgotten about it either.

Soon, they reached the end of their journey: an intricate eluvian embellished with the symbols of the gods. Solas stopped and examined the mirror. Through its shimmering surface, he could catch a glimpse of the city on the other side. There was a tall tower of crystal and gold reaching high up into the sky, surrounded by silver waters. A bridge of white marble stretched over the calm river, waiting for him to walk it.

“Now, isn’t that something,” Solas murmured. “Will the six of you be coming with me? Or are Elgar’nan’s champions so noble that they don’t need to cross the Bridge of Lies?”

The Sun Soldiers around him stirred, exchanging glances. 

“You have spent centuries roaming the land,” the captain said. “You certainly didn’t expect the gods to welcome you back to Arlathan without testing your intentions first.”

“My intentions?” Solas turned to face the man. “They _summoned_ me here.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have designs of your own,” the captain replied, his eyes cold as steel. “The People might have cheered for you after what you did to Geldauran and his kind but from what I heard you didn’t just betray them for selfless reasons. You might become a threat to others. And thus, your loyalty to the Evanuris must be tested.”

Solas stared at the captain for a long moment.

“Fine,” he said at last. “I will walk this path if I must.”

The captain nodded and gave the order to back away. In an instant, the soldiers took a few steps backward and left Solas alone in front of the eluvian. 

Solas held his breath for a moment, imagining what might await him on the other side. _My conscience is clear,_he told himself. _There is nothing to worry about._

He exhaled, lifted his chin, and walked through the eluvian. 

The sky above Arlathan was as clear as ever, wide and blue. Bright sunlight reflected on every surface and made the might crystals from which the first elvhen had built their city shine in the midday sun. Solas waited for his eyes to adapt to the brightness, then turned his attention to the massive bridge before him. 

The Bridge of Lies. The name betrayed the simple beauty of the gigantic overpass. There were no statues to flank the walkway, only a few lanterns that would light up once the sun had set in the West and a set of sigils that had been carved right into the stone. Yet, Solas could feel the powerful magic at work here. It lived in the stone itself and drew from the Beyond as the city of Arlathan drifted high in the sky, towering over the rest of the world. 

He stepped onto the bridge and he could feel the magic reaching out to him. It probed his body, tested his will. If he’d held any ill intentions, it would lash out and take hold of his body before he could defend himself. He’d seen it done countless times to those who aided Geldauran in his quest to challenge the Evanuris. Luckily, he had come with the intent to help, not to overthrow the gods. And so, the magic stayed with him like a loyal companion as he walked across the bridge and vanished as soon as he reached the other side. 

Solas didn’t give it a second thought. His attention had already shifted to the massive building on the other side. Even though the eluvian, crystal palace had been a breath-taking sight. Up close, the building was absolutely majestic. The Evanuris themselves had dreamed it up and created the palace with their magic when Elvhenan had still been young. The first of his kind had called it _ar lath’an_, the Place of Love. Once, Mythal and Elgar'nan had sat here and given counsel to The People. Now, the gods used it as a place of judgment. That was why the inhabitants of Arlathan had given it a new name.

The Ring of Summons.

The Evanuris had taken their seats in the main chamber, a gigantic room in the middle of the palace. Each one of them sat on a crystal throne that seemed to grow out of the stone in the ground. And behind each throne stood an eluvian. Columns of crystal and stone rose behind the mirrors, forming archways that crisscrossed for overhead. 

The crowd that had gathered was seated o rings of stone benches carved in a half-circle around the thrones. Their muffled conversations filled with Ring of Summons with a low humming. Solas saw all of the high keepers and high priests, many of them accompanied by personal servants. All of them eyed him suspiciously, as he made his way down an aisle and stepped onto the main floor of the council chamber.

He straightened his shoulders while he took in the sight of the assembled Evanuris. To his right, Dirthamen, Falon’Din and June had taken their seats. On his other side sat Sylaise, Ghilan’nain and Andruil, each one of them watching him intently. In the middle, on top of a dais, stood the thrones of Elgar’nan and Mythal, All-Father, and All-Mother of Elvhenan. Their thrones were embellished with symbols that represented their power, while plants climbed up the sides and back, gracing the crystal with delicate flowers.

Solas’s gaze flicked to Mythal. To an outsider, she would look calm, serene even. But he was not so easily fooled. Knowing the All-Mother the way he did, he saw the slight frown on her face, the way the corners of her mouth seemed restraint and tight. She was concerned, he had no doubt about that but she would not let it show in front of other members of the pantheon. 

_Why would she do this?_he asked himself.

For the first time in two hundred years, he regretted not having been here. He could have offered her comfort in these distressful times. But that he knew about Mythal, too: The All-Mother never placed a burden on anyone’s shoulders if she didn’t believe they could carry it, including her own.

“Step forward, _young one_”, Elgar’nan said, his voice booming.

Disgruntled by the greeting, Solas pressed his lips together. He had endured the Passage over two thousand years ago and had spent most of them in service to Mythal. In all this time, he had been many things: an advisor, a mentor, even a lover. But it had been a very long time since anyone had reason to call him_ young. _

_ Go ahead, mock me_, he thought, trying to keep a straight face. _One day, you will see what good it did you._

Yet, he did as commanded and bowed deeply before Elgar’nan and Mythal.

“Do you know why you were called here?”

“I have no idea, Elder,” Solas said in a sickly sweet tone. “Please enlighten me with your wisdom.”

Elgar’nan’s brows furrowed, and his lips twisted in a disgruntled way. The All-Father sat up straight on his crystal throne, his massive figure bright and burning like the sun rising in the east. For a moment, Solas could see remnants of an old fire gleaming in Elgar’nan’s eyes. The light of the sun, caught in the flesh for all eternity.

Solas knew he was playing a dangerous game, but for all his power, the All-Father was a self-indulged prick first and foremost and needed a reminder that he, Solas, could never be forced into submission.

“As you have traveled our realm on behalf of my beloved wife, Mythal, I know you are aware of the threat that has been growing in the south,” Elgar’nan said. 

“I am. What of it?”

“Our own scouts have been roaming the south, collecting all information they could find on this..._ thing_", Elgar'nan explained. "Their reports are disturbing, to say the least. They mention a looming darkness that emerges from the depth of the earth and leaves nothing but devastation." With this, Elgar'nan leaned back and interlinked his fingers in front of his chest. “And since you have been traveling the area, we thought it might be interesting to hear what you have learned while you were…. well, whatever it is you were doing.”

For a moment, Solas stared at the All-Father in disbelieve. Did they really need him to shed a light on these events?

When he kept silent, Elgar'nan coughed and regarded him intently.

“So, what can you tell us?”

Solas inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. In his mind’s eye, he saw the charred bodies of elvhen, left to die in the sun by this looming darkness.

“I’ve seen our people being defiled and mutilated by a terror to terrible to imagine,” Solas said and opened his eyes to look at Elgar’nan and the other Evanuris. “Many have lost their lives, and their corpses were unlike any I’d seen. The flesh was burned from their bodies by a fire hotter than the sun itself. But that is not the worst part. The few survivors I encountered had been drained of their magical energy and had lost all ability to enter the Beyond. They were nothing but husks, living shells without a spirit, forced to endure until their bodies failed them.” 

A murmur went to the crowd. Muffled conversation sprang up all around the council chamber as the elvhen tried to process this information.

Solas stifled an angry smile. _Let them worry_, he thought. _Let them be terrified. Maybe then they will remember that they are no different than the people in the south or anywhere else in the empire._

"Order!" Elgar'nan boomed and the muffled conversations died down instantly. Then the All-Father turned his eyes back to Solas. "What else do you know?"

“After a while, I started to notice a pattern,” Solas said. “It seemed like the attacks happened only under certain circumstances. All of them occurred outside of elvhen settlements, preferably during the night. Some of the survivors described the attacks to me as if the world had gone silent around them with only the howling of wolves to keep them company. This creature, whatever it might be, scares its victims half to death before it charges and then consumes their spiritual essence. I can only guess to what end, but it is certain that it leaves the bodies empty, and then burns them.” Solas wrung his hands. “After hearing these tragic stories, I couldn’t refuse to offer my help.”

“And what help would that be?” Falon’Din asked, his voice muffled by a golden mask that hid his features. Only his chin was visible, as was the deathly-pale skin that spun tightly across his jaw.

Solas squared his shoulders, turning ever so slightly to look at the god. “I established a supply line, securing herbs and potions that will ease the pain, and helped the local clans to set wards against whatever magical power had invaded their lands. It is not much but it gave them hope.”

On the other side, Andruil sucked her teeth so loudly, the sound echoed from the stone walls of the council chamber. “How very generous of you,” the huntress said, sizing Solas up as if he was but an animal for auction on market day, lust and greed shimmering in her eyes. "Although I never took you for the gentle sort."

“The All-Mother has brought me to this world to help,” Solas exclaimed. “And these people, _our people,_ were in desperate need of just that. It would have been cruel and heartless to let them die alone and forgotten.”

Next to Andruil, Sylaise leaned forward. “That is a very kind notion,” she said. “But these elvhen have chosen to walk the earth and live at the fringes of our realm of their own volition. Had they come here, to Arlathan, they would have been safe.”

_No, they would simply within your grasp. More subjects to command. More playthings for you to break,_ Solas corrected her but didn’t dare to say the words out loud. 

“That is a matter of debate,” he said evasively. “I reckon this is not why you wanted to hear more about my journey in the South.”

“That’s right,” Dirthamen interjected. “The people down there are one thing. We are more interested in the creature that killed them in the first place.”

_You don’t say!_

“What of it?”

“We need to find it,” said Elgar’nan, giving his son Dirthamen a dismissive side-glance. “When we consider the reach of this creature – the dark or whatever you like to call it – it was grown incredibly powerful. If we don’t act now, it will only continue to do so and we can not allow that.”

“I understand,” Solas said. “And what _exactly_does this have to do with me?”

“We want you to go and find it.”

Solas sucked in a sharp breath. So, this was what this gathering was all about. 

His gaze flicked to Mythal again, who had kept silent since he first walked into the council chamber. Whatever her thoughts were, her face didn’t betray them. We would have to wait for the All-Mother to make her next move, while the Evanuris involved him in their powerplay.

“Why me?” he asked. “Our lady Andruil has the best hunters and trackers in all of Elvhenan at her disposal. Certainly, they are better suited to find the creature than I am. What can I do what they have not already tried?”

“So much is true,” Ghilan’nain said. “But none of them is as _clever_ as you are. From what you just told us, the creature possesses wisdom of its own, knowing when to strike and when to vanish. It needs a like-minded spirit to lure such a creature out. And you were a spirit of wisdom, after all, were you not?”

Solas turned slowly and forced himself to smile at Ghilan’nain.

He knew that this wasn’t about his capabilities as a wise man. Not truly. He was expendable to them, nothing more but a slave in service to the all-might Evanuris. If anything, this was about Andruil who didn't want to risk the lives of her hunters.

“And what will you have me do, once I find the creature?”, Solas asked, his lips twisted in an angry smile.

Elgar’nan snorted. “You will kill it, of course.”

“Of course,” he replied, biting back the foul taste in his mouth. 

He looked up at Mythal once more, searching for a sign, something, in her face. Why did she let them have their way with him? Did she actually _approve_ of these plans? 

And then, finally, he understood.

Mythal wanted to do something about this threat, but she could not move against the Evanuris openly. Even if she acted in her people’s best interest, the Evanuris would most certainly think of it as another attempt to keep them from power. 

She had interfered with their plans too often during the last decades. Not too long ago, she had stepped in a violent dispute between Elgar’nan and Falon’Din, all but preventing a civil war between father and soon. And from what he had heard during his journey, the dust still hadn’t settled on that matter. Mythal had to stay silent if she didn’t want to rally both father and son to oppose her.

That is why she had not called him back to Arlathan sooner. She wanted the Evanuris to suspect him, wanted them to pick him to do their bidding. It would look like she had given in. The other Evanuris wouldn’t have any reason to suspect Mythal of treachery, while the All-Mother put all her trust in Solas, for she knew he would never betray her. 

Still, he needed to talk to her in private once the gathering was concluded. Surely, the All-Mother had plans of her own, aside from the obvious task of killing a dangerous creature of unknown origin.

“I will do what you asked,” he said and bowed once more.

He could almost feel the surprise rippling through the ranks of the Evanuris but it didn’t last long. To his right, he heard Sylaise breathe a sigh of relief, as the other members of the pantheons relaxed in their chairs and congratulated themselves for their victory over Mythal’s most loyal and most unruly servant.

“I will need time to prepare, though,” Solas said. “We don’t have any eluvians that gain us access to the far south. I need to venture there with appropriate armor and enough supplies to sustain myself or I will fail before I have even encountered the creature.”

He heard Andruil click her tongue, but he did not mind her. His eyes were fixed on Elgar’nan. The dark figure of the All-Father loomed over him, his muscles tense as if he was ready to strike.

“You have seven days,” Elgar’nan said at last. "And not a moment longer."


	4. A Place Of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A homecoming and careful considerations.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

Solas didn’t look back when he exited the Ring of Summons. He held his chin up high as he walked the aisle that let up the ranks of the gathered elvhen. The watching him closely, whispering among themselves, as he left them and the Evanuris to their own devices.

He exited the chamber and made his way back over the Bridge of Lies in fast strides. A small crowd had formed on the other side of the walkway. Spirits and commoners who had not been invited to witness the gathering first hand. They, too, watched him as he crossed the bridge and began to shout questions as soon as he was within earshot. 

Solas pretended not to notice. He kept walking with his hands clasped behind his back and waited for the crowd to part before him like the sea. To the people, he must look proud and confident but that was not what he felt. His thoughts raced as unrest settled in his guts. He needed a quiet place, and time to think. 

Luckily, he knew where he could find both.

Each of the gods held some kind of estate within the confines of the city. Their towers rose high above into the sky as symbols of wealth and power. Some were carved from sand and stone and marble, others from crystal or even foliage. The Sun Spire, Elgar’nan’s residence, was crafted from pure glass so that the tower could capture the light of the sun. The Halls of the Dead, Falon’Dins temple, featured a facade of onyx and obsidian that seemed to consume the light reflected by the Sun Spire. But both buildings appeared unadorned next to the might of the All-Mother’s tower.

Mythal had granted him accommodations within all of her estates in Elvhenan, including the temple the elvhen had erected in her honor at the center of Arlathan. The edifice was nothing short of an architectural wonder. In its middle stood a large stone tower, decked with intricate reliefs of Mythal’s war against the Titans that seemed to touch the very heavens. Around it, crystalline structures grew on the stone, interlaced with lush greenery and myriads of glowing flowers. 

His chambers were high up in the tower, though not on the top level. These floors were reserved for the All-Mother herself and served as her personal sanctuary. From her rooms, she could look far and wide, taking in all of Arlathan and the vast world beyond the floating city. Solas had been summoned to a private meeting with her in her chambers on more than one occasion and tried to replicate the marvelous view in more than one of his paintings. It went without saying that he failed miserably. The beauty of Elvhenan was too much to behold, too much to be captured in one image.

He climbed the steps that led up to the entrance of the temple and found himself in an atrium. The room was empty, except for the eluvian right in the center, and the columns overgrown with vines. Yet, it was alive with the sound of water sliding off decorative walls to both sides and the low hum of conversations. A few elvhen roamed the hall, carrying baskets with gifts to Mythal. Most of them wore simple clothing–white silk, silver brocade, or even linen–but some sported the colorful hair and intricate robes of the nobility. They were guarded by Sentinels in light armor that overlooked the proceedings in the temple. A handful of spirits rushed to greet the visitors and directed them to an arched threshold on the far side of the atrium. Solas caught a glimpse of the trees that grew in the Hall of Contemplation on the other side.

He took a moment to regard the people gathered in the temple. Unlike the high keepers and priests that had sworn themselves to Dirthamen, Falon’Din, and the rest of the Evanuris, Mythal’s servants had devoted themselves willingly to her and therefore enjoyed her unwavering trust. They worked side-by-side with the spirits, a reminder of their shared past. One of the many reasons why Solas had been loyal to Mythal all these years. She had never forgotten that spirits and elvhen were, in fact, two sides of the same coin.

While he stood there, a spirit turned to face him. It had a slender built, ageless, sexless, but with the defined features of an elvhen. Its concept of self had grown stronger while he was away, Solas noticed. 

A flicker of excitement rippled through the Beyond when the spirit recognized him. It said it’s goodbye to a group of visitors waiting to enter the Hall of Contemplation and came towards Solas.

“Welcome home,” Diligence said. “We have missed you.”

Solas couldn't help but smile. 

“The feeling is mutual, my friend. I hope everyone is well.”

“They are.” Diligence let out a soft chuckle. “They will be so pleased to hear that you have returned.”

“Not for long, I’m afraid,” Solas replied. “Which is why I must ask a favor of you.”

“Certainly. How may I be of assistance?”

“The Evanuris have given me a difficult task. That is why I have returned to Arlathan. I need time to plan before I proceed,” he told Diligence. “I will retire to my chambers to seek guidance from your brethren in the Beyond. I do not wish to be disturbed until I awake. Could you arrange that?”

“Of course,” the spirit replied. “We will make sure that you will be left in peace.”

“Thank you,” he said, still smiling. He had almost forgotten who good the company of spirits felt. They listened without judgment. They were pure that way. 

If he could only be one of them again. Life would be so much simpler.

_ But that realm of existence is beyond my reach now. _

He bid his goodbye to Diligence and turned towards the eluvian in the atrium. Solas sighed and stepped through, passing through the realm of the Crossroads in a heartbeat. He slipped through another mirror close-by and found himself in the Hall of Travels at the heart of the tower. Eluvians of various shapes and sizes had been erected to both sides, anchored in the stone walls of the tower with works of gold and greenery. Some let to far-flung corners of Elvhenan, others allowed him to move freely within the tower. The only thing required was to know which key to use.

He turned towards one of the smaller eluvians and reached out to the Beyond. In an instant, he felt its warm energy flooding through him. With his mind, he redirected it towards the eluvian and released it. The magic manifested in a gust of blue smoke streaming towards the eluvian, unlocking it. Light rippled across the mirror’s surface, welcoming him home just like the spirits had before.

Solas stepped through the eluvian and, a moment later, found himself back in his private chambers and the eluvian went dark once more. 

His chambers included a main room with an array of chairs and a couch at the center where he could receive guests as well as two separate rooms for his personal conveniences. One served as his bedroom, the other for grooming and body care. 

At night, all of the rooms were lit by floating motes that gave off a soft green glow that reminded him of the Beyond. During the day, however, natural light streamed into the chambers through high stained-glass windows showcasing some of Mythal’s magic wonders – like her conjuring of the second moon to light the Darkest Days at the beginning of the world. Beyond that, vines climbed the stone walls, covering large parts of the windows.

The sun had already begun to set, its glowing beams peeking through the vines and illuminating the stained glass windows. Entering the grooming chamber, he started to undress.

He dropped this dirty traveling robes by the side of the washbasin and conjured new water from the Beyond to clean himself. He cupped his hands and filled them with water, then splashed the cold liquid on his face and neck. Letting out a sigh of relief, he leaned over the basin and rubbed his neck and shoulders. 

He had hoped to gain the attention of the gods to make them help their people in this time of need. Instead, they had passed on the task to him in the faint hope that the problem would solve itself. And even if it didn’t… 

Solas knew he needed to learn more about the threat in the south before he embarked on his journey. But it wouldn’t be easy. The creature had been but a shadow and most elvhen tried not to turn a blind eye to its existence. Even experienced keepers like Sabrae couldn’t make sense of the Black Dread’s attacks and were rightly terrified by them. And he couldn’t blame them for it.

He had pondered with the idea of entering the Beyond more than once on his travels but there had been no time. The elvhen had been in need of his help and he would rather aid them to set up defenses against further attacks and recover from the loss then enter the world of dreams. Still, he hoped that valor of the elvhen who had fought against this Black Dread had captured the attention of nearby spirits. Maybe they could help him learn more about this threat.

He cursed under his breath. It would have been easier to contact these spirits while he was in the area physically. This far away north, it would be much harder to reach out to them. But he didn’t have the time to go back and enter the Beyond there. He would have to do it here, where he was safe. He had to try, at least.

After he had cleaned himself, Solas changed into a set of light-brown leggings and a long flowing tunic. He kept his hair in a long braid on the top of his head, with both sides of his head shaved clean but used magic to make it dry within a few heartbeats. 

Bare-footed, he walked across the main chamber and entered the bedroom on the other side. The room was almost empty, except for a large bed that could hold two or three people at the same time. Someone had changed the sheets for him and had lit incense of the nightstand. The familiar smell of herbs made him relax almost instantly. 

“Let’s see what we can find,” he said to himself, drawing back the linen sheets.


	5. Small Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the early days of Elvhenan, a spirit forms and tries to find its purpose.

> _ -7,600 Ancient _

In the beginning, the spirit had no name. It simply was. Called into being by a force beyond its comprehension, it sundered from the song that connected all life and formed into a singular entity.

Blinded by the beauty of the world, the spirit tried to piece together its own nature. The spirit _thought _ for days on end, enjoying the ideas that formed in its newborn mind, not caring that the sun and the moon crossed the sky countless times in the meantime. Suddenly, it could see the strings that weaved the world together and it rejoiced to be a part of it.

As time passed, the spirit’s sense of self grew stronger and it found that it not only could experience the world around it but to interact with it as well. Carefully, it wandered the vast open plains and studied all the living things it came across, whether they were flowers or trees or animals. It listened to the soft melodies of their minds and tried to find a kernel of itself in them. And so the spirit familiarized itself with the primeval languages of flora and fauna and learned all their secrets until there was nothing new to learn. And then the spirit would venture on, looking for new wisdom that awaited beyond the horizon.

Years went by while the spirit became acquainted with the plains and meadows, the forests and the mountain ranges. It was happy spending its new life wandering, until, one day, it witnessed a gathering of beings in the distance. The spirit knew instinctively that they were of flesh and blood, and yet their connection to the world seemed as sharp as a cutting edge. By sheer force of will, they transformed the earth around them to build wonders beyond the spirit’s imagination. On their command, the stone merged into tall buildings of many shapes and sizes. Even the flowers and the trees bent to their wishes and provided the beings with produce and materials to build more wonders with.

Despite its fear, the spirit came closer to investigate these beings and marvel at their beauty. They possessed bodies unlike any the spirit had seen before. Long arms and legs graced with glowing skin, soft hair braided in intricate styles. Every gesture was the expression of pure intent, every step a part of a graceful dance the spirit was eager to learn.

They were all bound to each other through their common identity, and through the two beings that seemed to lead them. One was male, the other female, and both were each other’s opposite in almost any regard. Where the male was bold and daring, the female was calm and protective. When he was being rash, she held him back with gentle kindness. But despite all their differences, the two of them raised each other up and formed an entity that was greater than anything they could be on their own. They were like two melodies intertwined to form a symphony. Their wisdom helped the rest of their people move forward. And the other beings loved them for it. 

The spirit felt drawn towards these creatures like a moth to a flame. It came closer, wandering the outskirts of the new-found settlement, but made sure it was always out of sight.

Years passed and the spirit watched the settlement grow into a city. By day, the air was full of noises–voices mingling with the clamor of a working force–, at night, the spirit heard music and singing until all beings had fallen asleep. The creatures only left the comfort and safety of their homes to go hunting and fishing or to gather materials from the nearby forest. 

And that is where the spirit met them.

One day, a young male with pale skin and auburn hair strayed from the paths his brethren had laid out in the forest in search of herbs. He carried a basket under one arm and he took his time to examine the plants growing in the underbrush. It was in that moment that he caught a glimpse of the spirit and stirred. He did not seem troubled by his presence. Instead, the man stood there and watched the spirit intently before turning on his heel and rushing back to the city.

Soon, he returned with another man. This one was older, although the spirit was not sure who it sense this since there was nothing in his face that would give him a distinct age. He calmed the younger man and asked him to wait at the edge of the forest. Then he turned to talk to the spirit.

“My name is Geldauran,” the man said with a friendly smile on his face. “I am one of the elvhen.”

“_Elvhen_”, the spirit murmured, savoring the taste of the word. “Is that what I am?”

“No, not yet.” Geldauran smiled wryly. “You are what we call a spirit.”

The spirit regarded the elvhen, trying to make sense of his words.

“You must have been on your own for a long time,” he said. “Would you care to tell me about your journeys, my friend?”

The spirit was confused. During all the decades it had spent wandering the wilds, it had tried to gather greater knowledge and turn chaos into complexity. Not once in all that time had someone asked it to share what it had learned. The spirit found itself rather excited by the idea.

And so it eagerly told its story. Geldauran listened closely, nodding every now and again to show his understanding. 

When the spirit had finished telling its story, the elvhen said: “You have done a remarkable thing, my friend.“

“How so?”

“You began your journey as a hazy dream. When you chose to use your mind to explore this world, you have managed to make yourself more real. Usually, it takes a guiding hand before a spirit can awaken as you did. That fact that you have come this far on your own does you credit. You should be proud.” 

Geldauran’s words changed something within the spirit. Suddenly, it was overwhelmed by a sensation it had never experienced before. A warmth that came from deep within and spread until it had flooded its entire being. 

_ You should be proud. _

A smile tugged at Geldauran’s lips.

“I see you understand.” 

The elvhen turned sideways, casting a glance back to where he had come from. “I’m wondering…”

“Yes?”

Geldauran drew back his long white hair with one hand, thinking. After a short while, he said, “Would you like to come with me? I’m sure, The People would be pleased to welcome a resourceful spirit like you among us.”

“Why would they? You seem content to separate from other species.”

“Because we were like you once,” Geldauran told him. “Free spirits, roaming this world until we found those in which we see ourselves. We became_ elvhen, _ The People. And in time, you could be one of us.” 

Still relishing in this new feeling of pride, the spirit put his carefulness aside. “That would be wonderful! But how is that possible?”

“You will know the answer to that question soon enough. There is still much for you to learn if you want to live as one of the elvhen. Come, I will guide you.”

Geldauran led the spirit down a path and out of the forest to where the young man with the auburn hair waited. But he wasn’t alone any longer. While Geldaruan had talked to the spirit, another man had joined the young one.

“This is Anaris,” Geldauran told the spirit and gestured towards the young man it had encountered before. Then the elvhen’s gaze flicked to his companion. “And this is Dearn’thal. They are my brothers.”

The spirit regarded the three men keenly. On its journey, when it had seen a creature giving birth to multiple offspring, the siblings always had some kind of resemblance. These brothers, however, looked nothing alike. While Anaris was slender, pale, and ginger-haired, Dearn’thal was muscular, with skin like bronze and a shaved head. Next to them, Geldauran looked fatherly with his storm-grey eyes and the white hair that reached all the way down his back.

“We all were spirits of knowledge,” he explained. “Anaris learns everything there is to know about herbs and their qualities. Meanwhile, Dearn’thal studies metals and minerals. And I,” Geldauran paused, “I study the power that pervades all life. When our paths met, we recognized ourselves in each other and called us each other brother ever since.”

“But you look nothing alike,” the spirit exclaimed. 

“That is because unlike the wild animals, we crafted our bodies to give form to our truest nature,” Anaris chimed in. “As did all elvhen. We were born with a purpose and in this form, we can live up to our true potential.”

The spirit did not quite know what to make of this. There was a truth to Anaris’s words it could not deny, but the meaning behind his words challenged the spirit’s knowledge. For the longest time, it had believed that each living creature's purpose was simply to live and to pass on its life essence to its offspring. To find greater meaning in existence was an idea it had never had before. And if what Anaris said was true, it wasn’t quite sure what its own purpose might be. The thought was deeply troubling.

“You were spirits of knowledge,” it said. “Is that what I am, too?”

“That remains to be seen.” Geldauran made a wavy gesture with his hand. “Once you have spent more time among The People, your true nature will emerge. You’ll see.”

* * *

The three brothers brought the spirit to the city. At first, the spirit waited nervously for the elvhen to be alarmed by its presence, but when they kept to their work without looking up, it started to relax and take in the sights of the city. Up close, the buildings looked even more artful then they had from a distance. Reliefs and sigils had been chiseled into stone, decking every wall and every walkway. Mosaics and gilded columns depicted scenes from a time before the elvhen even knew what time was and vines climbed the buildings and decked the roofs with their natural splendor. 

In the city’s center lay on an island encircled by a river that parted to the north and reunited to the south. A single white marble bridge led across to the island. Apart from a few wild trees, there was nothing there but an open plaza with two chairs carved from white marble in its center. One was gilded and embellished with symbols of the sun, while the other was inlaid with silverite and mother-of-pearl and decked with circles that represented the moon.

“This is_ ar lath’an,_ the Place Of Love,” Geldauran said as they reached a square in the center of the city. “This is where it all began for us. Where Elgar’nan and Mythal first met the Divine and learned from them how to shape their own bodies.”

The spirit took a moment to regard the place and traced the lingering feelings that pervaded the air. It felt joy, and wonder and an indomitable desire to live–old remnants of an encounter that had changed the course of history. 

“It is beautiful,” the spirit said.

The brothers shared a home a mile south of _ar lath’an_. The villa consisted of a large hall full of beds that were currently unoccupied, as well as a workshop, a laboratory, and a courtyard with a garden on the ground floor. Above, there were numerous smaller chambers the brothers used to sleep, cook, eat, and study. They gave the spirit a room of its own, despite the fact that it did not eat or sleep. 

Once it had settled in, the spirit began to spend its days watching the brothers’ daily work.

In the great hall, Geldauran tended to the wounded while Anaris cared for the garden and used the plants he gathered to make tonics for Geldauran’s patients. And there were more than the spirit would have expected. Some elvhen only had minor injuries or diseases, others came to Geldauran with deep wounds where the claws of a beast had struck them. Soon, the spirit learned that those with graver injuries were hunters tasked with tracking down animals and providing the city with fresh meat. “It’s dangerous work,” Geldauran told the spirit while he tended to an unconscious woman lying on a bed before him, “but it has to be done.”

Dearn’thal’s work remained a mystery to the spirit. Sometimes, the elvhen craftsman would lock himself in for days on end, melting and mixing metals to study their properties. When he joined his brothers during meals, he was often covered in soot, sweat, and the occasional burn mark.

“Why do you work so hard?”, the spirit asked, regarding a wound on Dearn’thal’s arm. “You endanger yourself.”

“I’m looking for a way to infuse metal with magic,” he said. “It has mingled with the living well enough. There must be a way to make the magic unite with other natural resources.”

“What about June? Why not ask for his help?” Anaris asked.

“Don’t make me laugh, brother.” Dearn’thal made a dismissive gesture. “He might be good with weapons, but that’s where his capabilities end. Let him and his beloved Sylaise show The People how to swing a sword and kindle a fire. I want to connect us with all the world, shape it into a realm of our own.”

Anaris chuckled skeptically.

“Last I heard June has taken on a woman who assists him,” Geldauran said in an attempt to divert his brothers’ attention to other matters. “They say she has a heart of steel, perfect for bending earth and metal. A good fighter, too. Punches people in the gut like a hammer hitting an anvil.”

“Is that what you do when your work is done? Go to the Sun Spire to watch those fools teasing and taunting each other until they inevitably beat each other bloody?” Dearn’thal shook his head. “Weird way to spend your time, especially for a healer.”

“They are not fighting each other out of spite,” Geldauran said, glaring at his brother. “They do it to blow off some steam. To release their anger. You could say that fighting is good for their souls. It lifts their spirits.” 

With that, he made a gesture imitating a flock of birds in flight.

The spirit wondered how such a thing was possible – how open aggression could be a good thing –, but Geldauran continued before it had the chance to speak up.

“Besides, it seems Elgar’nan is picking some of them as his champions,” the healer explained. “Takes them under his wing.”

Anaris looked alarmed. “How so?”

“At the end of each night, shortly before the dawn, he appears to speak to the fighter who bested all other contestants. And he would lay his hand on their face, like this.” Geldauran rested the fingers on his left hand gently on his forehead and cheeks. “Then a flash of light and a wave of energy ripples through the world. When he lets go, the face of the champion is marked with what he calls_ blood writing _. He gives up a part of his power to let the champion ‘ascend to his side’. Or that’s what he calls it, at least. To me it looks like the fighter is bound to Elgar’nan in servitude – and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

Both Anaris and Dearn’thal looked at Geldauran in surprise.

“Well, that is something to look out for, indeed,” mused Dearn’thal.

“What about the champions?” asked Anaris. “Do they wish to receive this blood writing?”

Geldauran shrugged. “From what I can tell, they are content. Proud even. They say they have been chosen to sit by the All-Father's side.”

“I wonder what the All-Mother has to say about all this.”

While the brothers spoke, the spirit remained silent, unsure of what any of this meant. It knew the names of the elvhen Geldauran and the others talked about, but it had never met one of them in person. In fact, it had barely dared to leave the estate. _ There is much to learn, still. _

When the brothers returned to their tasks, the spirit looked for something to occupy its mind with. For a while, it studied the collection of herbs in Anaris’ laboratory and read Geldauran’s notes on anatomy and spirituality. It even tried to aid Dearn’thal in his quest to construct a mirror, but the elvhen soon sent the spirit on its way to find another occupation.

And so the spirit joined Geldauran and put its knowledge into practice. It helped the elvhen to cure illnesses and treat cuts and bruises. Together, they did good work and the sense of pride and purpose inside the spirit grew stronger.

From all the tasks it performed to help Geldauran, the spirit found that it enjoyed talking to the wounded most. Conversations seemed to distract the elvhen from the pain they were in, and to soothe their souls. Many of them were eager to share what life had taught them about the world and the spirit listened to their stories with patience and glee. Every now and then, elvhen asked where its journey had taken it in return. It told its tale just as it had done for Geldauran. Some were impressed by how long it had survived on its own and how far it had come. And with time, they started to ask the spirit about all kinds of things. They sought his counsel on matters of the heart while they waited for their bodies to heal from disease and injury. Soon the spirit learned that it wasn’t the only being uncertain of its true nature. Even the elvhen–each of them a purpose bound into a physical shape–kept asking themselves who they were and how they could live up to their full potential. No matter how hard they tried, self-doubt and fear crept into their thoughts and threatened to poison their minds. But when they talked and walked together in dreams, the spirit could feel their unrest dissolve like mist burned away by the light of the morning sun. And the spirit found comfort in this. More than that. 

It found joy and a sense of belonging.

* * *

The sun had reached its zenith when a huntress and her entourage stepped into Geldauran’s hall. 

She was strong and bold, a born fighter. Her dark skin looked smooth as silk, and her eyes gleamed golden like the sun. She wore her black hair in tight braids that flowed down her back, dancing on the leather harness she had dressed in. Even without the golden bow that she had strapped to her back, the spirit would have known she was a master hunter.

_ A bow crafted from the gathering storm and the screams of the south wind… _

Three men accompanied the huntress. There was not much to set them apart from their leader. They wore the same outfit, the same boots, the same gear… But on their faces, they wore glowing lines that formed an image. _ A bow and arrow, perhaps, _ the spirit wondered. Whatever it was, they wore it like a mark of honor.

A woman who had come in with a cut on her left thigh three nights before stirred in her bed and place a hand on heart, right above the chest.

“My lady,” she whispered.

The huntress bowed her head to the wounded woman to show her appreciation.

“Are you here for me, my lady?” the wounded woman asked, hope shining in her eyes. “Am I to receive your vallaslin?”

The huntress smiled. “Not yet, my friend.”

The woman’s face fell.

“Your time will come,” the huntress told her. “But first, you must rest. Bend as the sapling would. In yielding, you’ll find resilience.”

The expression of disappointment on the woman’s features was replaced by excitement, respect. “That I will, my lady.”

With that, the huntress turned and scanned the hall for her true target. She took in the wounded around her as if they were nothing more than animals trapped in a snare, waiting to be let loose or to be sacrificed.

When her gaze fell upon the spirit, she straightened her shoulders and began to walk towards it.

_ She is here for me, _ the spirit realized. _ Why has she come for me? _

Geldauran must have felt the spirit’s distress because the elvhen healer appeared by its side only a few heartbeats later. He was drying his hands with an old cloth when the huntress reached them.

“Andruil,” he said and bowed his head. “What an honor to have you here.”

“That remains to be seen.” Her lips curled as she regarded the spirit. “The All-Mother has sent certain stories about a powerful spirit that lives within your halls. She asked me to go and find it, so I shall bring it to her.”

Geldauran put on a cheerful smile and gestured towards the spirit. “It appears you have found it. Your tracking skills truly are as remarkable as everyone says.” 

Andruil shot an angry glance at him.

“You are in no position to mock me, Geldauran. All you do is nurse The People back to health. I provide them with what they need to survive, to sustain themselves.” She pointed a finger at him. “Besides, Mythal ordered you to come with me as well, so you can explain to her why you have kept the spirit hidden for so long.”

His brows furrowed. 

“I have not kept it hidden,” he replied sternly. “It needed time to adjust, to learn. In time–”

Andruil raised a hand, cutting off his explanation. “You can tell my mother all of that. She will be the one to judge.”

“Of course,” Geldauran said sourly.

The huntress turned her attention back to the spirit. “It is a great honor to speak to the All-Mother, and I won’t ask twice. Will you come with me to Mythal’s sanctuary and present yourselves before the mother of all elvhen?”

The spirit felt excitement crawling up and down its ethereal form. 

“I have never dreamed about… I mean… ”

“Enough!” Andruil snarled. “Just follow me and be silent.”

Geldauran asked Anaris to take over his duties for the rest of the day, then the small group made their way through the city. At the Place of Love, they turned eastwards to where a tower of crystal and stone had been erected in Mythal’s honor.

The palace was as beautiful from the inside as it was impressive from the outside. A peaceful place full of quiet and comfort. The spirit could see why Mythal would call this her sanctuary.

Andruil brought Geldauran and the spirit to a massive hall with an oak tree in its middle. The Hall of Contemplation, as she called it upon entering the room. She commanded her hunters to return to their duties, then led the spirit and the elvhen to the tree.

Looking around the hall, the spirit saw several elvhen in attendance. They were dressed in fine silks and wore their hair in intricate styles that were nothing short of magical. And on their foreheads, fine lines intertwined like the branches of the oak tree that towered over them. But their beauty paled in comparison to the All-Mother herself.

When Mythal entered the chamber, it was as if the clouds on a starless night had broken to let the light of the full moon shine upon the land. Her silver hair was braided and a crown of crystals and flowers lay upon her head. She wore robes of night blue silk and a cloak made from silver brocade. 

The moment the spirit laid its eyes on her, it was overwhelmed by the intensity of her aura. It had watched her from afar for centuries, studying the way she gave counsel and ruled over the elvhen with her husband Elgar’nan by her side. Every tale the elvhen had told about her, it had learned by heart, to show her the proper respect and appreciation when it might meet Mythal in person. And yet, now that the All-Mother walked straight towards it, the spirit found itself taken aback. All it could do was to bow before her and remain silent.

“Well, what have we here?” Mythal mused, mustering the spirit from head to toe. “You must be the spirit I have heard so much about.”

“All-Mother,” it breathed.

“All-Mother,” Geldauran chimed in and bowed his head, just like Andruil.

“Geldauran! How good of you to come,” said Mythal and patted the healer’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since last we spoke.”

“There are many of The People who need my care and attention, as you well know.”

“Always busy, always working.” Mythal clasped her hands before her. “Well, can’t say that I know that feeling.”

She turned to greet her daughter with a serene smile, then gave her permission to leave. The huntress bowed once more and headed towards the archway through which they had entered the hall. “You too,” Mythal said aloud and the elvhen servants scattered like leaves in the wind.

“I assume Andruil has told you why the two of you have been summoned here,” Mythal said when the three of them were alone in the hall.

The spirit replied before Geldauran got the chance to speak. 

“She said that you have heard stories about me and that I should present myself.”

The All-Mother smiled. “That is correct.”

“And Geldauran should explain himself, why he has not brought me before you.”

“That is true, as well.”

Mythal cast a glance at Geldauran as if she was waiting for him to defend himself, but when the healer remained silent, she walked over to the mighty oak tree and touched its trunk with one hand. From there, a pulse of energy flashed through the tree and smaller branches started to build. The old leaves rustled with joy as new ones sprouted everywhere.

“The People have put their faith in me from the very beginning. They sought my guidance, placed their trust in me. And I was happy to reward their trust with unwavering love and loyalty. Now, they tell me about a spirit that cares enough to listen to their stories, to give them comfort and counsel.” Mythal let go of the tree and watch the newly grown leaves unfold. ”When I heard of this, I could hardly believe it. A spirit that could give counsel to The People! If that is true, I might as well retire from this life.” 

She chuckled and turned to her visitors, her eyes pinned on the elvhen.

“Now, tell me, Geldauran,” she said. “If what my people say is true, why have you kept this spirit locked away in your hall for so long?”

The healer crossed his arms behind his back. He looked strong, resolute, but the spirit could feel the flicker of annoyance and fear radiating off Geldauran.

“I was not certain of its purpose yet,” he said, sounding as determined as possible. “I would not want to bring it before you until it had fully formed.”

“Is that so?” Mythal turned and regarded the elvhen intently. “And here I was, afraid that you might want to perform the feat that, to this day, only Elgar’nan and I have accomplished without anyone spoiling it for you.”

For the first time since it had met Geldauran, the spirit saw his friend’s face go tense. His nose wrinkled, his cheeks blushed, and his hands clenched into fists. The spirit wondered where this sudden burst of anger came from.

“That is not what I had in mind, at all,” Geldauran said through gritted teeth. “I brought it here and gave it time to learn about our way of life. I was waiting for the right moment to present it to you.”

“Well, I’ll have to take your word for it,” Mythal said, raising an eyebrow at the healer. “Anyway, you may leave us now. I’m sure there are many of The People who need your care and attention.”

Geldauran blinked. “All-Mother?”

“You heard me well enough.”

The healer’s gaze flicked to the spirit and back to Mythal. His reluctance to leave was almost palpable and was met with fierce resistance from Mythal.

“It will be alright, Geldauran,” the spirit said as calmly as possible.

The elvhen’s lips tightened into a thin line, but he nodded slowly. Then he bowed and backed away, following the same way as Andruil. Mythal waited until she was sure that Geldauran was no longer within earshot. All anger she had felt for Geldauran dispersed as if it hadn’t been there at all. 

“Now that he is gone, we can talk in earnest,” she said, smiling.

The spirit hesitated, unsure what to say. What quarrel could the All-Mother have with the healer that she summoned him only to send him away again like an unruly child?

“You have questions,” Mythal noticed. “Out with them, my friend, before they drive you mad.”

“Well.” The spirit searched for the right words. “Why would you accuse Geldauran of keeping me hidden?”

Mythal clasped her hands before her, an image of calm amusement. 

“Because it would bring great glory to Geldauran if he helped you through the Passage,” she said. “You must have heard of it: the act in which you form your own body and manifest yourself in the waking world? Elgar’nan and I have learned how to gain a foothold on this plane of existence from the Divine and we’ve helped all spirits who cared to join us to do the same. That is the duty that has been bestowed upon us. But some, like Geldauran and his brothers, seek to understand our accomplishment and want to replicate it. I can hardly blame them. It’s in their nature to gather knowledge. Yet, there are some things only a few minds can handle without being corrupted.”

“Oh,” the spirit said. “That… can’t be easy. Carrying such a burden, I mean.”

“You’re right. It isn’t. But I have not asked Andruil to bring you here to confer with you about Geldauran and his plans. I wanted to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. The People tell me that you possess a rare knowledge. Not the kind one could learn from study alone, but rather a knowledge of the heart. They already have begun to turn to you for comfort and guidance. And that, too, is a marvelous feat to perform.”

“I’m just–” The spirit felt a wave of emotion wash over it; pride and humiliation in equal measure. “I’m nothing. A small spirit compared to your greatness.”

“That may be so, but greatness can only come from small beginnings, my friend.” Mythal raised a finger. “Always remember that.”

“How do you know?”

Mythal smiled enigmatically.

“Can you hear The Song At The Heart Of All Things?”

The spirit wavered. “It depends,” it confessed. “Sometimes, when the elvhen in Geldauran’s hall are very quiet and their thoughts slip away into dreams, I follow them. Then I can hear the low thrum of the purpose that called them into being.”

“Then dream with me,” she said and stretched out a hand. 

Her eyes began to gleam as she called magical energy into her body. The spirit could feel the imagery of the world around them shift, bending to Mythal’s will. The stone walls of her sanctuary vanished. Instead, the spirit saw the city spreading out in all directions. Buildings crumbled to dust and were replaced by even greater marvels, while the sky burned in a thousand different colors like a maelstrom of wonders. Thousands upon thousands of elvhen flooded the streets, singing, dancing, making love. And they weren’t the only ones. The spirit could feel the millions of souls roaming the world elsewhere, connected to the rest of their kin by the dream they shared. The dream of an empire that spanned all of creation.

“Once I was like you,” Mythal said. “A single note in a symphony until the Divine singled me out and raised me up to roam the skies with them. Then, they showed me this. _ Elvhenan. _ The Place of The People. It was an unfinished song at the time, only a promise of what the world could be. The Divine had heard its first chords in The Song and they asked me and Elgar’nan to be its conductors.”

While she spoke, seven great beasts appeared on the far horizon. _ Dragons. _ That was the name they had given themselves, but not the one the elvhen used for them. To them, they were divine beings worthy of worship.

Mythal inhaled deeply and raised her hands towards the sky. The spirit looked at her, stunned. A pair of dragon wings unfolded from her back and she stretched them as if she hadn’t used them in a long time. 

“Did the Divine create The Song?” the spirit asked. “Are they the reason why we are here?”

“No, they are only the keepers of creation” Mythal watched as the dragons circled the sky above the illusion she had crafted. “Whatever power made this world is even beyond their comprehension. But they hear The Song at all times, through the ages, and they are tasked with preserving its delicate harmony.”

“But why would they help the elvhen to take a physical form?”

“Because they needed our help.” A smile tugged at Mythal’s lips. “You must have seen it in your journey: the vastness of this world… The Divine might hear everything, see everything, but they can’t be everywhere at once. The elvhen can. And together, we shall keep the balance of The Song At The Heart Of All Things.”

With that, she reached out with her mind. The spirit felt her thoughts mingling with its own as she analyzed every aspect of its being, not just the ghostly exterior it presented to the elvhen. Mythal’s gaze reached across all plains of reality, assessing the spirit’s truest nature.

A few heartbeats later, she breathed a sigh of relief and let go of her magic. The eidolon she had crafted so effortlessly dispersed immediately. Nausea tugged at the spirit as it found itself back in Mythal’s sanctuary, followed by a wave of sorrow. 

To know that Elvhenan had only been a dream…

In all the years the spirit had wandered the wilds, it had never felt as lonely as in this moment. The beauty of what Mythal had shown it echoed in its very being and evoked a deep longing it had never felt before. 

“Why?” The word came out as a ragged breath. “Why did you show me this… this….”

The spirit halted, struggling for words. 

“Because I need your help to make the dream of Elvhenan come true,” Mythal said softly.

The spirit gasped and envied the elvhen for having a body. For the first time since it awoke, it wanted to weep.

“You are afraid that you are not suited for such a task,” Mythal said in a soothing tone, “and I can understand such a notion. When the Divine shared their dream with me, I felt as overwhelmed as you do. All I could do was cling to the purpose that defines me and let it guide me. You can do the same.”

With a gesture of her hands, she wrapped the spirit in a feeling of warmth and reassurance.

“Geldauran might not have been able to see what you truly are,” she continued, “but I can, clear as day, and I can assure you that your purpose is a noble one.”

Shuddering, the spirit cleared its mind of all emotion and focused on the All-Mother’s voice. It anchored him to the reality that existed, not the one that would come to be. “And what am I, All-Mother?”

“We all come into this world as a reflection of the things that came before us, like a dream that has come to life. As elvhen, this dream transforms into a purpose. It is a promise we make to the world and that we need to keep to live in harmony with The Song.” She stepped closer until she stood at arm’s length from the spirit and held her hand up as if she wanted to cup the spirit’s cheek. “You think you are Knowledge, like Geldauran, and Anaris, and Dearn’thal, and that you are not meant for the burden I spoke of. But you are more than they can ever be.” Her eyes gleamed with pride. “You are eagerness and empathy in equal measure. You, my friend, are _ Wisdom _.”

“Wisdom?” The spirit could hardly believe it. “How can I–”

“It is a rare and marvelous gift,” Mythal said, cutting off the spirit’s objections. “One you should cherish. You are the living proof of The People’s wisdom. Your existence should make all elvhen proud.”

She sent a pulse of energy through her fingers and into the spirit’s body. For a short moment, its ethereal form solidified to give it an impression of what it felt like to have a body. Tears began to fill the All-Mother’s eyes as she showed the spirit a glimpse of its future.

“From now on, you shall be known as Solas, ” she said solemnly. “_The Pride of The People_.”


	6. What Lies Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas searches the Beyond for knowledge about the Black Dread.

> -3,700 Ancient

Being in the Beyond always gave him comfort. It reminded him of the simpler days when his life had been about exploration and learning and everything he came across had been a wonder to him. In the Beyond, he heard The Song more clearly and was reminded of the beauty of the dream Mythal had shared with him so long ago. The dream that had compelled him to leave his old life behind and bind himself in the Waking World–and to the All-Mother.

He felt his conscience drift away from his physical existence and deeper into the realm of the Beyond. Soon, the stone walls of his chambers vanished and images of alternate states of reality flared up around him. He saw flowers waiting for their chance to bloom as the color of the sky turned from a bright blue to a deep purple, then red and orange, and finally a ghostly green. Before his eyes, the stone and crystal from which the All-Mother’s tower had been built crumbled and were replaced by lush trees that sprang up around him. They grew taller and taller as he watched until their crowns blocked the sky. Only streaks of pale green light made their way through the canopy and to the forest floor.

Solas stilled his mind, sliding deeper into a contemplative trance. He shook off every thought that bound him to his physical form to strengthen his dream image. Soon, there was only the soft hum of the song inside him that determined his nature.

Although Mythal had warned him about what crafting his body would mean to his connection to the Beyond, Solas had been overwhelmed by the feeling of loss once he had survived the Passage. It had cost him a century of training and meditation to reach a state of mind that allowed him to regain access to the parts of reality where The Song was loudest, where all life truly began. They had been, quite literally, beyond his reach. And even after years and years of training there were still regions in the Beyond that were lost to him. The Deepest Fade, as the elvhen called it, for it eluded every being that had taken physical form. Only spirits were able to walk there since their nature was still undetermined, shifting. They could easily slip away into places where all conscious thought seized to exist. And sometimes Solas envied them for it against his better judgment.

“Envy is an expression of desire,” Mythal had once taught him. “You long to be connected to your brethren because they possess a wisdom that binds you to them. It is only natural for a spirit such as yourself to seek their company. But don’t let this desire define you or you will stray from the path. Let go of petty emotions and you will find that you are perfect exactly as you are.”

He still remembered how she’d held him after his Passage. She had cradled his naked body in her arms as he had drawn one ragged breath after another, overwhelmed by feelings he’d never had before. The soft breeze on his skin, the warmth of Mythal’s hand on his cheek. It had always been too much to take in, despite a century of preparation.

“Focus on what is here,” she had whispered, ever the caring mother, while he’d struggled to breathe. She had laid her hand on his chest and helped him redirect his thoughts on the wonder he had just crafted. Thankful for her guidance, he had listened to the steady heartbeat in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. His shaking fingers had traced the lines of his face and body as well as the stone floor beneath him. With each breath, he’d eased more into his new life.

He knew that if it hadn’t been for Mythal he would still be a spirit. He would give advice to anyone who wished to hear like he had in his time with Geldauran and his brothers and he would learn more about the world, gaining knowledge beyond common comprehension. But the All-Mother had called for his help and the eidolon of Elvhenan had captured his heart. So he had become Solas, her servant, and had stayed with her ever since, marveling at her insight and thoughtfulness, while she relied on him for guidance.

With time, the pain of loss he had felt when he manifested in the Waking World had subsided. The work necessary to realize Mythal’s dream of an elvhen empire was more important than his grief or sorrow or envy. He had followed the All-Mother’s guidance and focused on his purpose. He had let it guide him through the ages.

And it let him here, to this very moment.

When he was certain he could maintain the delicate state of trance required to stay connected to the depths of the Beyond, he took in the rare beauty of the forest around him. It was the last echo of the woods that grew around Arlathan when the city had been founded and some of its magic still lingered on in the Waking World. Yet, there were no signs of life as Solas knew it. Neither did he hear birdsong, nor the rustling of leaves as the wind brushed through the canopy. An eerie silence had taken hold that did not bode well.

He ventured deeper into the forest, looking out for other oddities. After a while, he came across spirits of love and compassion that tended to the trees and sang to the flowers that had all but started to grow on its branches. Spirits of hunger picked up the fruit that had fallen from the trees and shared it with each other. They were acting out a play, emulating the life of the elvhen, as many spirits did in the early stages of their conscious existence. Solas couldn’t help but wonder what kind of elvhen they could be. The world sure could use more love and compassion. Now more than ever.

For two centuries he had been running away from what he had done to Geldauran, occupying his mind with what some would consider common work. In a way, he had returned to his own beginnings, spending more time listening to the troubles of the People than witnessing the bickering and bargaining of the nobility. It had been as comforting as it had been troubling. No matter where he went, he saw pain, sadness, and suffering. His people labored beneath the load the Evanuris had placed on their shoulders to further their own glory. And yet, most worked without complaint, like Sabrae and her clan, clinging to the memories of better days when the gods had still watched over them.

It had all begun to change when the war ended. With the blood of the Titan, new wonders had become possible. Dearn’thal had created the eluvians, granting the People access to alternate realms of reality as well as the far-flung corners of the world. Within centuries, the elvhen had spread through the continent, founding new settlements and erecting palaces and temples in honor of their elders that had led the elvhen into victory over the Titans. For a while, everything had been like the vision Mythal had shown him when he was still a spirit. But then, over time, the praised leaders had grown into figures of legend and the People’s respect slowly turned into unadorned worship. They were revered elders no longer, but _evanuris_.

Despite the fact that the elvhen gods called the Beyond their home, they seldom took the time to slip into the state of mind necessary to walk in the world of dreams anymore. They were more concerned with the matters of the Waking World in which they could bend everything and everyone to their will. They were content with the state of things and had come to value the worship of their followers more than the well of knowledge and wisdom that lay hidden in the Beyond. The praise of the elvhen had all but drowned out the song that had called them all into being. If it weren’t for Mythal, the dream of Elvhenan might as well be lost.

Maybe that is why they had to send him to go after the Black Dread. Because he didn’t turn his eyes away from the Beyond as they had. He was willing to go to places they had come to fear. The Beyond was where all of their lives had begun, after all. It reminded them of a time when they had been mere mortals. A time before their ascension.

A wave of anger washed over him and he could feel his connection to the Beyond waver.

_ Calm yourself, _ he thought. _ Focus on what is here. _

Solas stilled himself and redirected his attention inward. It took him several attempts to brush the frustration aside that always reared its head like a monstrous beast emerging from the sea when he thought about the Evanuris. It hadn’t always been like this. For the longest time, he had as much hope in the gods as all the other elvhen. Only that they hadn’t been gods at the time. They had changed, slowly, but surely, just like a spirit coming into its power as the years passed, and somewhere on that journey they had lost themselves.

_ The dream of Elvhenan yet lives, _ he reminded himself and tried harder to anchor his mind in the Beyond. _ As long as the All-Mother lives, it will endure. _

When his anger finally subsided, he pushed all feelings aside and focused on his surroundings. There was a reason why he had come to the Beyond, after all. Even if he didn’t value his own life enough to prepare for his inevitable encounter with the Black Dread, he owed it to Sabrae and all the other keepers fearing the creature to pass all available knowledge on. 

_ Whatever good it may do them... _

For hours, he wandered the forest until he finally reached its borders. Beyond lay wide open plains full of ghostly grass. He looked up and raised one hand to protect his eyes from the gleaming sunlight. Unlike the spirits who formed as a reflection of the elvhen and their desires, the sun of the Beyond and the sun of the Waking World were the same thing. It encircled all states of existence, allowing both spirits and elvhen to draw from its power. That was how Elgar’nan first learned to take on a physical form. In studying the sun, he had found a way to manifest his dreaming self in the Waking World, proclaiming himself the son of the sun and ruler over all of creation.

Solas turned his gaze to the south and squinted. Was there a streak of darkness dimming the light on the horizon or was he just making that up?

His head began to hurt and he turned away, Sighing deeply, Solas pressed his hands against his forehead. Once again, he wished he had stayed a spirit. In his spiritual form, he could have journeyed into the deepest parts of the Beyond without difficulty. He could make the journey to the southern regions to investigate in a heartbeat and carry that knowledge with him. But he was bound in his physical form, like all other elvhen. It was the price each of them paid for their ability to reshape reality. 

_ What must I do? _

“What are you looking for, wanderer?”

A voice, deep as thunder, echoing in his very bones.

Solas turned in surprise and found a spirit sitting on the trunk of a tree that had fallen by the edge of the forest. There was a certain sharpness to its features. Cloaked in an aura of grief and weariness, it presented itself as an elvhen woman with pale skin and sad eyes. Long black hair—or rather the memory of it—framed a famished face covered with the shadow of vallaslin. The mark of Falon’Din. 

Solas swallowed, shivering from the sudden chill the spirit had brought about.

This woman spoke to him from_ uthenera. _

He knew that some of the elders had chosen to enter the Eternal Dream after the war. Some would have died from their wounds, others simply became weary of their life as elvhen and sought to live in harmony with their purpose by returning partly to their spirit form. Whatever the reason, their bodies now resided in countless crypts and catacombs all over Elvhenan, forever sleeping, while their spirit drew sustenance from the Beyond itself. Still, to enter the Eternal Dream was not without danger and could prove to be as fatal as a killing blow. Those who failed to reconnect with the Beyond died despite the infusion of herbs they received to strengthen their bodies. This woman, however, had managed to establish herself in the spirit realm once more. Undoubtedly, the knowledge she had acquired under Falon’Din’s tutelage had served her well. But since then she has become someone else, something different. 

“Who are you?”, he asked hoarsely. 

The spirit tilted its head ever so slightly. “That is a question not so easily answered,” she said, placing one hand on the trunk. “Come, sit with me.”

Solas sat beside her, regarding her intently.

“You are probably wondering if we’ve met before,” she said with a coy smile. “And, indeed, we have, although I doubt that you will remember me. You were still a young man who had just made his Passage and the All-Mother kept you close to protect you from ill intent. I was once a servant to Falon’Din back then and worked beside him in the Hall of the Dead. He taught me how to offer comfort in the final hours and how to guide the minds of the dying into the Eternal Dream.” 

She paused, her gaze locked on the horizon.

“At first, I was content with my work. I helped to ease pain and suffering and offered a way out where many thought there was none. But as the dead piled up in Falon’Din’s hall, my heart grew heavy until I could not bear it any longer. I had walked the Path of Death and I knew where my journey would lead me. It is the fate of all who walk the _ din’anshiral _. And so I surrendered and returned to the Beyond to find my own comfort.” A sad smile tugged at her lips. “But now I find that I can not deny my purpose. Even here, where all life begins, I am drawn to those who are touched by death to help them. And we both know that there is no greater glory than doing what is in your heart.”

Solas recalled the encounter the spirit spoke of, although his mind was occupied with other matters than giving attention to the servants that aided Falon’Din. He remembered a cold that had settled in his guts as he and Mythal examined the dead Sun Soldiers that had been brought back from the battlefields on which they fought against the Children of the Stone. It had been a new kind of terror, one that would not have affected him as a spirit: the fear of death, of dying, of losing the precious gift of life that had been bestowed upon him. It had left him mortified. He had only thought of how badly he had wanted to live and to keep on living. 

_ I am drawn to those who are touched by death. _

A tight knot formed in Solas’s throat as the spirit’s words echoed in his mind. They instilled the same fear in him that he had felt as he walked through the Hall of the Dead. Instinctively, he clenched his fists and pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed back the feeling of terror that clawed at him. 

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, raising a hand and resting it gently on Solas’s arm. “Death is not yet upon you. There is a chance you might still evade it. But to ignore its existence would be a grave mistake.”

“You talk as if you know why I have come.”

“I have seen only the shadow that follows you wherever you go. It sneaks up on you, waiting for the right time to catch up on you.” She twisted her hand slightly, squeezing his arm encouragingly. “I do not know why it is following you but I will do what I can to prevent that from happening. The People have already lost too much.”

A sour taste filled Solas’s mouth.

“Thank you,” he said with no small amount of weariness in his voice.

“You may call me Ghil Din’an,” the spirit replied, her gaze flicking back to Solas, “and I will help you steer away from the Path of Death. So, let me ask again. What are you looking for?”

Solas released his hands, placed them on his thighs, and looked at his fingers. 

“Have you heard about the attacks in the south?” he asked.

“Indeed, I have. The Black Dread’s doings ripple through the skies like a stone disturbing the surface of a mountain sea.”

“Then you know what shadow has fallen over me, for I am tasked with bringing the creature to justice.”

Ghil Din’an’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, as if she had suddenly forgotten how to speak. He could see the shock in her dark eyes, followed by resembling pity. 

“I must know what this creature is and where it came from,” Solas continued. “If I can determine its nature before I seek it out, I can use this knowledge to my advantage. Otherwise, I won’t stand a chance against such an adversary. But since this a threat unlike any the People have faced so far, I will find no answers in the Vir Dirthara. So I came here to drink from the well of knowledge that is the Beyond.” He paused and turned to regard the spirit for a moment. “Do you know what the Black Dread is?”

A sense of regret tinged the air around Ghil Din’an.

“I’m sad to say that I have no idea,” she said remorsefully. “I only heard the whispers of spirits who had encountered the Black Dread and were able to flee from it before it had time to consume their essence. The few survivors I met were terrified. ‘It tried to consume us’ they told me. ‘Now it is eating the elvhen alive. What should we do?’ But there was nothing we could do but stay away from it.”

“So the creature attacked the spirits as well,” Solas said, perplexed. “Why don’t the People know about this?”

“We believed that if we starved it, the creature wouldn’t be able to gain a foothold in this world. We didn’t know that it had already passed on into the Waking World to threaten the elvhen, at least in part.”

“I wish you would have come to me,” Solas said sourly. “I could have offered you help.”

“And what would you do for us, I wonder,” the spirit mused. “With your physical body, you can no longer go where this creature came from.”

Solas blinked. “So, it came from the Deepest Fade?”

Ghil Din’an tilted her head slightly as if she was listening to a song only she could hear.

“It certainly _passed _through the Deepest Fade,” she said after a short while. “If it originated there, I can not say. No spirit can. My brethren are too frightened to trace the Black Dread’s steps. Otherwise, we might have known sooner that the creature could change its form to enter the Waking World. We would have warned you.”

Solas stifled a frustrated sigh. Although he wished the spirits had watched the Black Dread’s doings more carefully, he could hardly blame them from staying away. He might have told Sabrae and the other keepers to do the same if he had known of the creature beforehand. Yet, he needed to learn more. Any small amount of information could be helpful.

“When did the spirits first met the Black Dread?”

“The first encounters happened about two hundred years ago.”

Solas felt his limbs go rigid.

_ Two hundred years! _

The Black Dread had emerged around the same time that he, Solas, had foiled Geldauran’s misguided plans to challenge the Evanuris. The healer and his brothers had been studying the Deepest Fade, postulating ideas that many considered foolish or useless. Even Solas had thought them mad when he heard about their research. Now, he was not so sure. Not any longer.

_ What have you done, Geldauran? _

“You seem troubled,” Ghil Din’an noted. 

“I am,” Solas replied hoarsely, still contemplating the implication of Geldauran’s involvement. His old friend might have had questionable ideas and had to be set onto another course. To think he had come back after all this time to finally get his revenge on the Evanuris...

Solas smiled sardonically. He had come here looking for answers, but all he found were more questions.

“What is so funny, my friend?”

“It is never easy, is it?” Solas asked.

Ghil Din’an looked at him, curious. “Why should it be?”

He opened his mouth, looking for a reply. When no words came, he sealed his lips once more and shook his head ever so slightly. 

“You are _ Solas_,” the spirit gestured towards him, a sly smile on her lips, “and you take pride in your wisdom. You should know that it is not so easily obtained.”

He had to admit that the spirit had a point. 

“If it is any consolation, your visit here was not worthless,” she said. “You have learned at least one useful thing about the Black Dread.”

“And what might that be?”  
  
“We spirits tried to starve the Black Dread in the hopes that without our essence to sustain itself, it would wither away, and we failed,” Ghil Din’an explained. “This could only mean that the creature is not susceptible to hunger the same way spirits or elvhen are. Our hunger helps to nourish ourselves. The Black Dread only feeds out of pleasure, and spite. It is deeply unnatural and can not establish itself in the Beyond. It does not belong here.”

“So what are you suggesting?”, Solas asked.

“If you want to end Black Dread’s life, you have to remove it from the Beyond and drag it to the Waking World in its entirety. There it will have to take a solid form to oppose you. This might give you the advantage you need.”

Solas felt his jaws go tense.

“You make it sound so easy,” he replied with a tense smile on his lips.

To enter the world physically, a spirit had to form a strong sense of self. It was the foundation, the frame for its physical body. Without it, no spirit could imagine a new shape and claim it as its own. It would go on reflecting the world around it, reenacting the bloody past over and over again. But the Black Dread was no spirit. It was more than likely that none of the magic he knew would even work on the creature, be it spirit traps or carefully crafted spellwork. The Black Dread was more like a wild beast that needed to be chased down and lured into a trap. 

He thought of Andruil with her golden bow and spear. What would she do were she in his position? No animal had been able to escape her. Even the cursed creatures Ghilan’nain had crafted to win Andruil’s affection had all died by the huntress’s hand. Some might say that it was her prowess that had made her stand victorious but Solas knew that this was only partly true. It was the sheer power and recklessness with which she threw herself at her targets, being as much the prey as she was the hunter, that made all creatures walk into her traps. 

“Of course,” he murmured when the answer finally came to him. “Why didn’t I think of this before?”

Before he knew it, he stood and regarded the darkness on the horizon once more.

Ghil Din’an was right. He had to lure the Black Dread into the Waking World and force it to take a physical form. But he wouldn’t need traps or spellbinding to do so. All it took was a compelling bait that the creature could not resist. 

He would have to offer his own power, his very essence, to the Black Dread.

“It seems you have found your answer.”

Solas turned to face the spirit. “One answer, yes,” he corrected. “Many more questions remain. We still don’t know where the Black Dread came from or what its purpose is. But you were right. I did learn something about my opponent and I am thankful for the knowledge you shared with me. Let us both hope that it will help me escape the shadow and leave the Path of Death for good.”

“Then go with Mythal’s blessing,” Ghil Din’an said. “The hearts and minds of all spirits are with you.”


	7. The Mad Huntress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas remembers an old friend. Andruil pays him a visit to offer her help.

> _-3,700 Ancient _

When Solas awoke from his walk in the Beyond, he felt drained, exhausted. 

If he’d had the time, he would lay down to rest once more, seeking solace in the sweet embrace of dreamless slumber, but he did not have that luxury. A day had passed since he had been called before the gods and though he learned more about this mysterious threat in the south, he knew that he was running out of time.

He had to prepare for the journey to find the Black Dread—and to face it in combat. If his plan was to succeed, he needed to take great care and protect himself with any means necessary. Otherwise, he would end up an empty husk like all the elvhen whose bodies he had examined during these past few months.

That he had to offer his own life as bait for the Black Dread was not what troubled him the most, though.

Ghil Din’an had not said a word about Geldauran’s involvement in all of this, yet Solas couldn’t shake the feeling that the appearance of the Black Dread was linked to the healer’s fate. Two hundred years had passed since Solas had brought about the downfall of his oldest friend. Two hundred years since the Black Dread had begun to haunt both elvhen and spirits like a force of vengeance. The timelines matched too neatly for this to be a coincidence.

Suddenly, it felt as if the centuries since he had fled the capital had never passed and the memories he’d been trying to outrun when he left Arlathan behind caught up with him.

Back then, Geldauran and his brothers had been hiding out in their palaces to the west, using the mountains as a natural barrier to keep outsiders away. Their followers were allowed to come and go as they pleased due to the vallaslin on their faces. Others were entrusted with the keys to the eluvians through which they could gain access to their strongholds. Solas had been among them, one of only a handful of people that the three brothers still called friends. And he had used that trust to spy on the men who had taken him in when he was still a spirit in the waking.

Even before Geldauran and the others had given up their estate in Arlathan to start a new, Solas had been troubled by their deeds. After the war, when the Evanuris had been elected leaders of Elvhenan, they had started rallying misfits and outsiders to their cause. They had their followers preach in the streets to spread the idea that the victory against the Stonechildren had been a ruse to rob the People of their power. Back in the safety of their own palaces, they become even more foolish. They conducted experiments and tried to garner a power that would be able to rival the strength of the Evanuris.

When Solas had realized what his old friends were up to, he’d had no choice but to move against them. Or so he kept telling himself. He had passed the information on to Mythal who arranged for the Evanuris to take notice. When the hints had amassed to what seemed like evidence for an uprising, Elgar’nan had ordered his Sun Soldiers to bring the three brothers to Arlathan so they could be judged in the Ring of Summons. From sunrise to sunset, the Evanuris had showered Geldauran, Anaris, and Dearn’thal with accusations and, in the end, they had exiled them as traitors to the People and decided that all memory of them had to be erased. And so their old holdings had been confiscated, their research destroyed. All records in the Vir Dirthara that named them or referenced them in any way had been altered by the archivists under the order of the Evanuris. It became forbidden to even speak their names out loud, in public as well as in private conversation, so miscreants could no longer rally behind their cause. Now, they were only known as the Forgotten Ones and despite all their accomplishments, the People tried to pretend they had never existed.

If only Solas’s own memory of Geldauran and his brothers could be erased so easily. He still remembered the stricken expression on Geldauran’s face when the All-Mother had passed the verdict. The corners of his mouth had twisted downwards, the shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes deep as chasms. He’d known he was defeated. And Solas, standing in attendance for Mythal that day, had watched silently as the All-Mother had broken his old friend’s spirit by taking away what he loved most: his chance to care for the People.

Solas returned to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water in the faint hope it would wash away the unpleasant memories that still lingered in his mind. Then he changed clothes once again, dressing in wool leggings and foot bandages combined with a tunic and dark green robes, and stood before the mirror to regard himself.

_ Is all of this my fault? _

When Solas had gone to see Geldauran one last time in the cells beneath the Spire, the healer had smiled at him as if he was the only light left in the world. He’d had no idea that the spirit of wisdom he had found in the woods all those centuries ago had been the one to betray his trust and give the Evanuris the evidence to bring him to heel. “Maybe Falon’Din is right,” Geldauran had said. “Maybe an end truly can be a new beginning.” 

Solas had forced himself to smile at his old friend in return, offering words of encouragement. Inside, however, he’d felt hollow. Knowing that he was doing the right thing was only cold comfort. 

“He had to be stopped,” Mythal had said to him when Solas had told her about his remorse. “He and his brothers were toying with the delicate symphony of The Song. If you hadn’t helped us to stop this madness, they would have caused great harm to the People. Their desire to help them would have turned on them in the end. You know this as well as me.”

But what of his own desires? Had they come to turn on him?

Solas was still regarding himself in the mirror when he felt a flicker of emotion in the Beyond. Blinking, he returned to the main chamber where the eluvian stood just as the mirror’s surface came to live. A moment later, Diligence entered the room and brought a wave of regret and urgency with it.

“My friend,” the spirit said in a way of greeting when it discovered Solas was wide awake. “I am sorry to disturb you!”

“How can I help you?” he asked.

The spirit wrung its hands, looking even more uncomfortable.

“Lady Andruil has come to see you,” the spirit said. “I told her that you do not wish to be disturbed but she won’t leave. She sent me here to bring you to her, so the two of you might talk.”

Solas sighed deeply. Part of him wanted to ask how much the elvhen goddess had harassed the spirit until it had given in to her request, but he already had a clear enough picture of the matter. Spirits of diligence were humble servants and always tried to perform their tasks to full satisfaction, even if the person assigning them with the task had no right to command them in the first place. 

“Thank you,” Solas said and made a grateful gesture. “Where is Andruil now?”

“She awaits you in the Hall of Contemplation,” the spirit told him.

Solas frowned. “Not her mother’s chambers?”

“The All-Mother has returned to her palace in Ethen’an while you slept and has sealed her chambers.”

That caught Solas like a kick to the stomach. “Mythal is _ gone?” _

“Yes,” Diligence admitted. “After the gathering of the gods, she told us that she felt unwell and she hoped the sea air would help her regain her strength.” 

“Why did nobody inform me of this?” he asked more briskly than he intended.

“I am sorry,” the spirit said, begging his forgiveness. “We informed the All-Mother about your whereabouts and she asked us to leave you in peace while you walked the Beyond.”

Solas rubbed the inner corners of his eyes with two fingers, groaning. Of course. This was his fault. If he had asked the spirits not to wake him… He sighed again. It was no use. Mythal had left the city. If she had wanted to confer with him before her departure, she would have called on him regardless of his wishes.”

“Is everything alright?” Diligence asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied. “I simply assumed the All-Mother would speak with me after what happened in the Ring of Summons. I am sure she will reach out to me when the time is right. “

“Of course.” The spirit shifted slightly in the air. “What about Lady Andruil?”

“Don’t worry. I will go and speak to her.” Solas offered a soft smile. “Please tell her that I will join her as soon as possible.”

Though the posture of the spirit did not change, he could feel the relief that originated from it as a reflection in the Beyond. “Thank you, my friend. I will.”

* * *

Although Andruil wasn’t known for her patience, Solas took his time before he finally left his quarters to meet the huntress. 

She waited for him in the Hall of Contemplation, just as Diligence had told him, and in full armor. She stood with her back to the archway that led into the hall, her hands clasped behind her back. 

When he caught sight of her, he straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. It was best to look calm and composed when facing an apex predator such as Andruil. He’d learned this lesson well enough. And whatever had brought Andruil here, he had to be on his guard.

Solas inhaled slowly, one breath, two breaths. When he felt his mind go still and a mask of politeness concealed the emotions on his face as well as their reflection in the Beyond, he entered the hall.

He had never found this place in perfect silence before. Usually, the Hall of Contemplation was open to all residents of Arlathan and was therefore often occupied by dozens of citizens seeking peace and advice from Mythal. Now it was empty except for him and Andruil. Even the spirits had been driven away by Andruil’s menacing aura.

In the hall’s center stood a giant oak, the _ vhenadahl, _ that represented the All-Mother and her love for the People. Its roots ran deep and its branches almost touched the high arched ceiling above. Its trunk was painted with delicate drawings of Mythal that were crafted by elvhen as they said their prayers and asked the All-Mother for her guidance. Around the giant oak was a set of nine smaller trees, all of them reshaped into embellishments of Mythal’s power. Their trunks were smooth as silk, reflecting light like polished stone, while their branches folded upwards to form a rounded shape.

_ The love of the People that encircles the world _, Solas though as his gaze flicked to the molded trees.

When he approached the goddess, the aura of danger that pervaded the air grew stronger. He stalled, watching the goddess as she slowly turned towards him. She looked like she always had, an agile woman with dark skin and thick dark hair that was braided at the sides and flowed freely on her back. Her eyes gleamed golden like Mythal’s, but she had the strong jaw, broad nose, and strong eyebrows of Elgar’nan. She had captured the glory of the All-Mother and All-Father in her features when the two of them had held her pass into the Waking World--the first of all their children.

Still, something seemed very wrong.

Walking as slowly as possible without appearing suspicious, Solas regarded Andruil’s armor more closely. From experience, he knew that the huntress preferred close-cut dresses and leather armor that allowed her to move freely at any time. This was different. The harness and chainmail were made of metal and were infused with intricate lines of writing that glowed in a deep red. Even Andruil’s arms and legs were covered in this heavy armor, down to the gauntlets and sabatons. 

He eyed the glowing lines that covered every piece of Andruil’s armor for a moment. Smithery was hardly his area of expertise, but he’d learned enough about rune crafting to know that such markings glowed in a ghostly blue. Where did the red tint come from? 

He made a mental note to see into the matter later. For now, he had to deal with the Great Huntress herself. She was eyeing him intently as he walked the long way to the _ vhenadahl _ where Andruil was waiting for him.

“Mylady,” he said. She watched him, as he bowed his head to her, one hand on his chest. “To what do I earn this pleasure?”

Andruil licked her lips, sizing him up as she had before, during the gathering in the Ring of Summons. 

“You very well know why I am here,” she informed him. “Don’t pretend otherwise. I am no fool and I know that you aren’t one either.”

Solas clenched his teeth. Andruil had never been one for pleasantries, but this kind of behavior was different. 

“You came here because of what happened during the last gathering,” he said, matter-of-factly. 

A satisfied smile tugged at Andruil’s lips, and she nodded.

“I am,” she said. “I have come to offer my help.”

Solas looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

”Oh, please, don’t look at me like that,” Andruil said with a wavy gesture. “I know you think me a selfish creature, only looking for more bloodshed, but you are mistaken. This threat in the south is a danger to all of Elvhenan and I want to see it destroyed before it can inflict any more harm on the People.”

It took Solas all he got not to scoff at that. Andruil did not want to protect the elvhen any more than a common hunter didn’t want to run out of deer to shoot. Both would only refrain from killing long enough for the livestock to regrow, so they could go on doing what they liked best.

“I’m sorry,” Solas said, trying to sound as coyly as anyhow possible while biting back the vile taste in his mouth. “I did not know you were that concerned.”

Andruil snorted, then crossed her arms. “So, you are telling me you didn’t know that it was me who urged Elgar’nan to call for the gathering?” 

Solas blinked.

“I did not,” he admitted and squared his shoulders.

_ This conversation will be much more interesting than I expected _. 

“While you were away, dishing out good advice and supplies to our brethren,” Andruil explained, “I sent a squad of my best hunters to go find this… Black Dread.”

Solas reined in his emotions. Of course, she had sent hunters to track the creature. It had been too long since the Great Huntress had a beast of noteworthy strength to kill. Not since she had hunted down all the monsters her beloved Ghilan’nain had crafted for her.

“Did they send the reports?”

“No.” Andruil shook her head. “My hunters went before my brothers or even my beloved Ghilan’nain gave much thought to the curious events in the south. Sadly, most of them wound up dead, burned alive, and drained of their spiritual essence, just like you described during the gathering. Only two of my hunters made it back alive, though I found them fundamentally changed.”

Solas lifted his chin, curious.

“How so?”

“Their minds were... ripped to pieces,” she said, slowly, as if she was considering how much she wanted to tell him. “They were barely able to remember what has happened. Soon after, their bodies gave out and they died, too.”

“A shame,” Solas said. 

“A shame, indeed.”

For but a moment, they regarded each other, each planning their next move in the game of chess that was their conversation.

“I am glad that you chose to share this information with me,” Solas said at last.

“Oh, I intend to do a lot more than sharing information with you,” Andruil said with a sly smile. A wave of rippling light gleamed on her armor and Solas felt the urge to squint. It was as if the metal itself came alive with Andruil’s barely concealed lust and greed.

Solas steeled himself against the curious effect the red metal had on his awareness and tried to look the huntress straight in the eye. “Please allow me to ask,” he said and then went on without waiting for her response. “Why did you not share this information with the other Evanuris? Why let Elgar’nan call on me to tell him things you already knew?”

“Let’s just say that things have gone… awry as of late,” she said sternly. “That is all you need to know.”

“Hm,” Solas mused. “Well, you have my gratitude.”

“Oh, yes?”, she asked and licked her lips. “And how grateful are you, exactly?” 

“Very,” Solas said evasively and shifted on his feet in an attempt to create distance between them. Unfortunately, the huntress was not so easily fooled. With a wide smile, she took off one of her gauntlets and placed it on the stone banister that encircled the _ vhenadahl _. The dark skin beneath was unusually pale and had a waxy quality to it. Solas was still trying to make sense of the fact when Andruil stepped closer and rested her now bare hand on his cheek. 

“Now, ‘very grateful’ is barely good enough for a goddess, is it?” she purred, caressing his cheek with her fingers. “I will have to try harder, then. I will send a squad of my best hunters with you. They will help you track down this dreadful creature, so you might return to me in one piece.”

Solas felt his jaws go tense, while he forced himself to smile at Andruil. “That is a generous offer_ , _” he said, “but I can not accept it. It is bad enough that my own life is on the line. I could not bear the thought of your entrusted hunters risking your lives on my behalf.”

Red light glistened in Andruil’s eyes. The bright violet of her iris was interlaced with streaks of crimson, glimmering, giving off an aura of intense power. It reminded him of…

His eyes went wide.

_ No, this can not be!" _

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me, dear Solas,” she said softly. “There is no need…”

“I’d rather not…” he said and recoiled.

Before he could step away from her, Andruil grabbed his chin with one hand while drawing a dagger from her belt with the other. She hissed and put the blade to his throat. The cold metal graced his skin, leaving the faintest cut.

“Do you really want to decline the offer of a goddess?” she asked in hushed whispers. “Have you forgotten your place?”

Solas swallowed, resisting the urge to push Andruil away. Even without a blade at his throat, he would be no match for her in direct combat. 

“My mother may allow you to walk free,” she continued, “but the rest of us are not so easily fooled. You are using her affection for you to get your own way, just like you did with Geldauran. A servant capable of manipulating the All-Mother herself is as much a danger as the Forgotten Ones ever were.”

Solas sucked in a sharp breath and pressed his lips into a thin line to prevent his emotions from getting the better of him. If Andruil thought he was capable of manipulating Mythal… It was almost laughable.

“One day, I will leash you,” she told him. “You will serve in my bed, just like I demanded, and when I’m done with you, you will finally know your place. You will be bound in obedience and our body will be nothing but an empty shell.”

Despite himself, Solas felt a shiver crawling down his spine. Andruil had always been mad with greed, but this… 

Did Mythal know about this?

Andruil leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. Again, Solas fought the urge to fight back in the hopes it would appease her. So he kept still and waited for the moment to pass, knowing that even the tiniest movement of his lips would encourage the huntress even further. 

To her, he was nothing but prey, another thing for her to hunt down and add to her collection of trophies. But he was determined to not let her have her way with him.

Not now, not ever. 

When the huntress finally realized that he did not return the kiss, she shoved him away with a groan. 

“You can try and deny yourself to me,” she spat. “I will come and get you. One way or another.” With a single gesture, she sheathed her blade, retrieved her gauntlet and put it back on. “You disgust me,” she said, her voice distorted by an overlay of energy. Solas could feel traces of it reflecting in the Beyond.

For a moment, he expected the hunter lunge forward and kill him right on the spot. They both knew he would not endure in a fight with her, especially if she shifted into her dragon form. But Andruil did no such thing. Instead, she rushed past him without looking at him. The sound of her heavy boots echoing through the Hall of Contemplation, as she stomped towards the entrance. 

Solas waited and listened to the blood rushing in his ears. When Andruil’s footsteps finally faded, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. The archway that marked the entrance to the hall looked like it always had, just like the atrium beyond. It was as if the huntress had never come to pay a visit, expect for his thundering heart and the lingering sense of immediate danger. 

“My friend.” A whispering voice to his left. “Is she gone?”

Turning his head slightly, he found Diligence floating towards him, accompanied by three spirits of faith, a spirit of curiosity and two spirits of honor. 

“Are you alright?”, Diligence asked. “You look troubled.”

Solas nodded without looking at the spirit servants. Their presence was more comforting than he liked to admit. With a soft sigh, he let go of the polite mask he had forced himself to wear during his encounter with Andruil.

“Please send a message to the Sonallium,” he told the spirit, still watching the archway through which Andruil had vanished. “I need to speak to Felani as soon as possible.”


	8. Dirthamen's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas goes to the Sonallium to see an old friend. Meanwhile, Dirthamen has their own plans for the Black Dread.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

The Sonallium was, like the Vir Dirthara, a wonder all of its own. Although it was possible to move freely through its cavern-like halls and corridors, the edifice was locked away in a sphere that tied it closely to the magic of the Beyond. In a way, it was like an eidolon that had been trapped with rune markings to never vanish. Everyone within the sphere needed to maintain a contemplative state of mind that was close to daydreaming at all times to gain access to everything the Sonallium had to offer.

Sylaise had dreamed up the Sonallium as a gift for June when he had asked for her hand in marriage. It was supposed to be the perfect home, a place for them and their protégés to craft new marvels and to retreat to when the hard work of the day was done. And Sylaise had seen to it that every hall was welcoming and comfortable as possible. Even the small nooks between the mighty columns that supported the arched ceiling in every hallway had been outfitted with blankets and cushions. Thick carpets, curtains, and wall hangings took away the coldness of the bare stone from which the Sonallium had been crafted. Instead of direct sunlight, most chambers and hallways were illuminated with the warm light of countless fires that burned in golden braziers clinging to the walls. 

And then there was the smithy.

It was the largest hall of the Sonallium and was located at the sphere’s center. Within lay hundreds of forges that gave off enough heat to supply the entire Sonallium with warmth. Yet, every forge was separated from the others with metal screens to provide the smiths and their spirit assistants with some privacy while the runes carved into the stone floors swallowed most of the noise produced by their labor. 

Solas stood on a walkway overseeing the hall and took a moment to regard the people working. The air was heavy with the scent of their sweat and blood as they poured their heart and soul into their work. Delving deeper into Beyond, Solas felt their emotions tugging at his awareness. He sensed diligence, devotion, but also anxiety. Then he heard the crack of a whip echoing through the chamber like distant thunder and shuddered.

“Follow me, please,” said the spirit of duty that had been sent to greet Solas when he had entered the Sonallium through an eluvian. It waited impatiently a few paces away at the top of a staircase that led down into the hall.

“Of course,” Solas said and went to meet the spirit. “I’m sorry.”

Together they descended the stairs and made their way through the smithy. Down here, the heat was heavy and thick in Solas's lungs and he had to draw a few long breaths to adjust to his environment. 

When he had almost lost his way within the labyrinth of screens that shielded the forges, the spirit stopped by one of the larger workshops and invited Solas to step inside with a vague gesture.

“Give my thanks to June and Sylaise,” Solas told the spirit before they parted ways. “I’m grateful for their assistance in this matter.”

“They are as concerned about the Black Dread as the other Evanuris,” the spirit said in a lethargic voice, “and appreciate your sacrifice.”

Despite the heat, a chill worked its way down Solas’s spine.

_ Let’s hope it won’t come to that. _

“Goodbye, my friend,” he said.

The spirit nodded and bid its farewell. Solas took a moment to watch it leave, then stepped inside the workshop.

“I’ll be right there,” Felani said without looking up from the piece of glowing metal she was working on.

Solas watched as the elvhen blacksmith raised the hammer in her right hand and brought it down on the red-hot metal that lay before her on the anvil in a powerful blow. The metal shrieked and sparks flew in every direction when the hammer hit home.

“More heat,” she told the spirit that floated near the forge and tended to the fire. Instantly, it drew energy from the Beyond to obey Felani’s command. The embers seared and sizzled.

Felani worked with focus and precision, bringing down the hammer again, and again, and again. _ Solas _wondered why she didn’t draw from the primordial energy of the Beyond to shape the metal into something new. His old friend was one, if not the most talented bender of earth and metal in June’s service. 

When her work was finished, Felani dipped the freshly forged blade into a basin of water next to the anvil. There was a loud hiss and a puff of smoke rose from the water as the metal cooled down instantly. She placed the piece carefully on a workbench made of solid stone. 

“Thanks for the help, Duty. You may leave us now.”

The spirit bowed before the blacksmith, then hurried away.

Wiping sweat from her forehead with one hand, Felani turned to Solas. That is when he noticed that her left arm was in a sling around her neck. He frowned, his gaze fixed on the bandage. It seemed like she had been hurt recently. A work accident, perhaps?

_ No, she is far too experienced for that. _

“Now, here’s someone I haven’t seen in quite a while,” Felani said teasingly. “Nice to see you again, Solas.”

Solas smiled before he could stop himself. 

“It was never my intention to stay away from you, believe me,” he told her. “I would’ve come sooner but I was… otherwise engaged, so to speak.”

“So I've heard.” Felani grabbed a piece of cloth that lay on a nearby table to wipe the sweat from her temples and neck. “You are a very busy man, Solas. Roaming the south, helping people.... being dragged before the Evanuris to kill some mysterious creature.”

“You know about the Black Dread?”

“You’d be surprised how much you can learn about the world, even here. The high keeper is quite the gossip. I swear the man spends more time bringing everyone in the Sonallium up to speed with what’s happening in Arlathan than actually working. I guess it’s his way of showing the rest of us that he can afford to spend his time with idle chat without June reading the riot act to him.” She sighed and tossed the piece of cloth aside. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“Oh, please.” Her face split into a grin. “I haven’t seen you in _ ages _ and then you show up in my workshop just a few days after the Evanuris have decided to send you to your almost certain death? Only a fool would think you have no ulterior motive.”

Solas put a hand to his chest, pretending to have suffered a painful blow. “

“You wound me!”

Felani chuckled. “That’s because I know you so well.”

“I should be more careful then,” Solas replied.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said and nodded towards a small passage to her left. “Come. Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable than this. I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Solas followed the blacksmith through the hall and into a passage that led away from the smithy. Soon, the muffled noises from the forges vanished and were replaced by the faint sound of water running through the walls to supply the many chambers in the Sonallium Felani kept silent while they walked, pressing her left arm awkwardly to her stomach. Solas shivered as he felt her pain. He inhaled sharply, taking in the persistent smell of earth and dust and ash that hung in the air, and focused his mind on other matters.

“Ah, no place like home!”, Felani said at last as they entered the cavern that served as her private chambers. The stone walls had been polished and painted with floral patterns, while velvet curtains hung from the ceiling to create smaller spaces within the cavern. The braziers on the walls lit up as Felani and her guest entered, emitting warm yellowish light.

“Sit,” Felani urged when they reached a space that was laid out with rugs and decorated with lush seat pads. Solas thanked her and slid down onto one of the larger cushions, his legs crossed, while she changed into more comfortable clothes.

“Want some tea?”, she asked, gesturing towards a silverite plate carrying a metal teapot and two small cups that stood on a nearby side table.

Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “You know very well how much I detest this stuff.”

She chuckled. “True, but I love the face you make when someone offers you tea.” With that, she vanished behind one of the curtains and returned with another plate carrying a carafe with a ruby red liquid and two crystal cups. She placed the plate on a pad in front of Solas, then sat down on another. Gingerly, she poured a drink for each of them and then handed one of the cups to Solas. They drank a toast and enjoyed a moment of consensual silence.

“Well,” Felani said at last. “What have you been up to these last few decades?”

And Solas told her about everything that had happened since he had left Arlathan two hundred years prior. Or almost everything. He kept his concerns regarding Geldauran and his brothers to himself like a hidden treasure. But knowing Felani as well as he did, he was certain she was already aware of his feelings towards the Forgotten Ones. So, instead, he spoke of his journeys to the south and the people he had encountered and Felani listened to all of it with great patience, asking him about this and that and laughing occasionally. 

“You lead a very remarkable life, Solas,” she mused after he had finished his tale and poured herself another drink. 

Solas pursed his lips and drank the last of his wine. “That is a matter of perspective.”

“More?”

Felani nodded towards the cup in his hands.

“No, thank you.”

She shrugged, set the carafe down and took another sip from her cup.

“And what about you?” Solas asked, glancing at the arm she carried in a sling. “How has life treated you while I was away?”

Felani made a dismissive gesture” “Ah, my life is not that interesting.”

“That seems highly unlikely,” he replied. “Please, I insist.”

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“That sling around your neck,” he remarked, “is hardly nothing. How did you come by it?”

“I was wondering when you would ask about my arm,” she said, sizing him up. “You have tried very hard not to look at it while we talked, haven’t you?”

“You know me too well, my friend.”

She sighed. “I properly shouldn’t talk about this,” she muttered, lowering her voice as if she was afraid to be overheard, “but if there’s one person I can tell about this it would be you.”

“That sounds… ominous.”

“Do you want to hear my story or not?”

“I’m sorry,” Solas said. “Go on, please.”

“Well.” Felani set aside her cup and ran her fingers through her thick dark hair. “Where to start? I guess it all began with Andruil showing up in my workshop a few months back. I still remember being bored half to death with the assignments I had, so, naturally, I was intrigued when she asked me to craft a new armor for her.”

Solas blinked, setting his own cup aside as well. “_You _ made Andruil’s armor?”

“Yes.” Felani watched him carefully. “You’ve seen it?”

“She came to Mythal's tower just yesterday wearing it,” Solas told her. “Her armor is the reason why I wanted to talk to you, in fact. It is quite extraordinary and I'd hoped you could tell me more about it_.” _

“Well, you have come to the right place then.” She twisted her lips into a smile. “Also, thanks for the compliment, I guess. Though it seems I only did the groundwork for someone else.”

“You don’t seem very happy with your work,” he deduced. “What happened after she ordered the armor?”

Felani looked at him, stalling. A moment of silence fell between them before she let out a frustrated sigh. 

“This cursed armor has caused me more trouble than I expected,” she said. “I’ll admit, I reckoned she was up to no good, but at the time I was starving for a new challenge and this armor seemed like one. So I made it for her. She seemed pretty content when she came to collect the armor. She put it on right away and told me she couldn’t wait to take it out. I thought she needed it to hunt some poor creature Ghilan’nain made for her. Wouldn’t be the first time. Anyway, when I saw her again, she had done something to my work. _ Infused _ it with something, so to speak. I don’t know how to explain it better.”

“The red light in the armor,” Solas mused. “Do you know what it is?”

“I have no damn clue,” Felani said, disgruntled. “When I finished my work, the armor was dark grey, coated with black paint. I embellished the pieces with titan’s blood to make the material more durable and to offer Andruil base protection against spells. But when she returned from her hunt in the south, the metal was glowing red with Evanuris-knows-what. It pissed June off pretty bad.”

Solas frowned and his gaze flicked to the blood writing on Felani’s face. She had been wearing June’s vallaslin long before Solas had first met her. She had learned everything there was to know about the manipulation of stone and metal under the direct tutelage of the Master of Crafts. In return, she had helped June create the many marvels of Arlathan. Never, not even once, had she tried to surpass her master, showing him nothing but respect and gratitude. But now that respect had twisted into something else. Something dark and disturbing.

“What did he do?” Solas asked hoarsely, although he already knew the answer.

Slowly, Felani loosened the bandage that held her left arm to expose the skin beneath. Solas held his breath, trying to contain the wave of anger that washed over him when he saw the scarred tissue just beneath her shoulder. It was exactly that kind of wound created when a limb had been torn from the rest of the body. 

“Took me a few weeks to regrow it,” Felani said, regarding her arms as if it didn’t truly belong to her, “and it’ll take a few weeks more before it’ll be fully operational again.”

“I’m… sorry,” Solas said, croaking.

“Could have been worse,” she said, but the seriousness of her expression betrayed her light-hearted tone. “He could have ripped my heart out. He certainly looked like he wanted to. I have to thank Sylaise that he didn't. She reminded him of my talents and how well they had served him.”

_ He’s just like the rest of them _ , Solas thought bitterly. _ Hungry for power and afraid to lose it. _

“One thing that makes me wonder, though.” Felani mused. “I mean, I was grateful that Andruil gave me an opportunity to show my skill. But why not ask June to craft the armor? They are both Evanuris, after all. Instead, she came to me. Odd, isn’t it?”

“She didn’t want June to find out about it,” Solas guessed. “Or at least, she wanted to keep it hidden from him until...”

Felani raised her eyebrows. “Until what?”

“When Andruil came to see me,” Solas said, “she told me that she had dispatched a squad of hunters to investigate the Black Dread for her and that they all perished after their encounter with the creature. Only a few lived long enough to tell her about it, but they hadn’t been very coherent.”

After a short pause, he continued, “I didn’t question her story at first. She hadn’t raised a finger to help her people in the Brecilian Forest, after all. But from what you just told me, I can only deduce that she must have gone with them. And it would make sense. The Black Dread must be the biggest game of all, the greatest of trophies. Andruil wouldn’t miss a chance to hunt the creature herself.”

“But she didn't want June to know about her involvement in the hunt until she knew what the Black Dread was", Felani concluded. "She was probably planning on harnessing the creature's power. And failed. Spectacularly so."

Solas nodded, remembering the madness in Andruil's eyes when she grabbed his chin to threaten him. It had reminded him of Geldauran, obsessing over ways of garnering strength to challenge the Evanuris. He’d had that same expression Solas had last seen him. Before he had vanished into the Void.

The connection between the exile of the Forgotten Ones and the appearance of the Black Dread became more and more apparent with every fact he uncovered. 

But what did this mean? Had Andruil been infected by some kind of illness that eroded her memories and weakened her body? If that was the case, the only reason she was still alive had to be Felani’s armor. There was no other explanation as to why she would have survived when her own hunters had been destroyed by the Black Dread.

“Do you think you can recreate Andruil’s armor for me without June noticing?” Solas asked in a low voice.

Felani squinted. “And why would I do that?”

“Because it might be the only way for me to survive my encounter with the Black Dread.”

He told her about what he had learned during his meeting with Ghil Din’an in the Beyond, laying out his plan to lure the Black Dread into the Waking World by offering his spiritual essence as bait. While he spoke, Felani’s face paled. 

“There’s a stupid plan if I ever heard one!” she exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”

He huffed a sad laugh.

“I wish I was, believe me,” he replied. “It would make all of this so much easier to endure.”

Felani looked at him for a long moment. Her amber eyes were filled with such pain, it almost crushed Solas’s heart. Instinctively, he reached for her right hand, stroking her strong fingers softly. He felt a shiver run through her body, then she took his hand and squeezed it.

“You’re a good friend, Solas, and I really want to help you,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice, “but June will have my head if I make another armor like that.”

“I know,” Solas said, “and I would never ask this of you if it weren’t necessary but the armor might be the key to this entire mystery. Somehow, it was powerful enough to keep Andruil alive while her hunters perished when they faced the Black Dread. Maybe it will give me the chance to save myself.”

The expression on Felani’s face was enough to tell him that she didn’t like his plan. No, she despised it. Her unrest made the energy of the Beyond around her quiver. For a moment, her gaze grew cold and distant as if she was looking at something very far away that only she could see. Solas, opening his mind to the magic around him, caught flashes of memories he and Felani had shared. The long days of training in preparation for battle. A Midsummer’s Night spent dancing, drinking, and chatting. Moments of intimacy when they had turned to each other to keep the loneliness at bay.

Felani took a long, shuddering breath. Solas squeezed her hand encouragingly and waited until she had reined in her emotions once more. Slowly, the memories dispersed and Solas softened his pull on the primordial energy of the Beyond. 

“Alright,” she said shakingly. “I will help you.”

Solas felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you.”

One corner of her mouth rose, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Because I need something in return.”

“If it is within my power to give it to you, it is yours,” Solas replied without thinking twice.

“I want what you already have.” Her eyes gleamed. Felani’s gaze flicked to the blood writing for a moment, before she looked him in the eye and squeezed his hand again. “The All-Mother’s protection.”

Solas’s brows furrowed. Suddenly, he was all too aware of the white lines of vallaslin on his face. 

“Call it a contingency plan,” she told him. “In case anything goes wrong and June gets ideas. He would never move against the All-Mother. He’s too afraid of her for that.”

“But you're already bound to him,” Solas pointed out. “It’s impossible to remove the vallaslin, let alone change it.”

“Oh, please, you don’t really believe that, do you?” Felani asked. “The All-Mother almost single-handedly raised Arlathan into the sky. Alright, you were there to help her… But my point is: My request is child’s play by comparison. The only novelty about it is that nobody asked for it before.”

Solas sat up as a cold shiver worked its way down his spine. The magic of the vallaslin was far from ordinary, despite anything Felani believed. It was an agreement, a promise of protection in return for unwavering loyalty. Mythal herself had told him that when she had given him her blood writing after his Passage. In the early days of Elvhenan, it had served as a mark of honor and as a reward. It had taken centuries and a war that almost ruined Arlathan before all elvhen had been bound to an elder they respected by the vallaslin. Removing the blood writing would be like breaking a contract. And the Evanuris could no longer afford the offense of being abandoned by one of their subjects. The moment the vallaslin would be removed from Felani’s face, June would come at her with a vengeance. She would lose more than an arm, then. Her destruction would be painful and public, a showcase of June’s power. And Solas had no doubt that the other Evanuris would welcome such a demonstration.

“I…”, he said slowly, his voice full of remorse. “I’m not sure if I can convince the All-Mother to grant you her protection.”

Felani frowned. “Why not?”

“Mythal has taken no action against the Black Dread because of the tension between Falon’Din and Elgar’nan,” Solas said. “Sure, she prevented open war by imposing a battle between their champions and saved thousands of innocent lives by doing so, but at what cost? The Evanuris fear the power she holds over them. You said it yourself. So she chose inaction to dispel their suspicion. That is why she let the Evanuris pick _me_ to kill the Black Dread. Through me, they are relegating Mythal to her rightful place among the pantheon. And she lets them have their way to keep the peace.”

Felani scoffed and withdrew her hand abruptly. 

“There must be another way!” she growled. “She is the Great Protector.”

Solas opened his mouth to say more when a strange sensation rippled through the Beyond. It was not much, barely a quiver, but he noticed it regardless. He focused and tried to trace the sensation with his senses. Felani’s chamber was cloaked by a layer of green mist as we immersed himself deeper in the Beyond. That’s when he heard it: a caw echoing from the Deepest Fade, but not distant.

_ A raven? _ he wondered, listening closely. 

The flap of wings. Feathers brushing against each other. A beak clicked against another in a way of greeting.

_ No, two ravens. _

This could only mean one thing.

Solas blinked, looking sideways in the hopes of spotting the two birds. 

“What’s wrong?” Felani asked, nervous.

“I should go,” Solas said. In a single movement, he rose from the seating pad and made for the passage through which they had entered the cavern. “I’ll show myself out.”

“Wait!” Felani cried, getting to her feet as Solas walked to the exit in long strides. “What about our deal? Will you speak to Mythal on my behalf?”

Stopping by the entrance to the passage, he turned around to look at Felani. She was a stout woman with broad shoulders and strong arms. Even in light clothing, it wasn’t hard to imagine her in battle armor, swinging her sword. Still, something about her startled Solas. His friend looked frightened, _ scared_.

It made him shiver all over again. 

“I will. I promise,” he said, hoping he would find a way to keep her safe.

* * *

The ravens were waiting for him in the Crossroads. They had settled on a large banister, cawing and eyeing him suspiciously when Solas came through the mirror that led to the Sonallium. 

“Fear and Deceit,” he said in a way of greeting when he came closer. “I should have known”.

While the ravens tilted their head and cawed one more time to mock him, Solas regarded the dim scenery of the Crossroads around them. Everything seemed just like before, from the eluvians to the dark buildings towering in the distance. Yet, he felt something approaching.

Or someone.

“Come out,” he said loudly. “I know you are here.”

He sensed a wave of energy rippling through the air, followed by the rustling of thick fabric and heavy boots. A moment later, a large silhouette emerged from the depths of the Beyond and walked towards him. The shape wavered like a fata morgana, then stabilized to reveal a tall figure in a long night blue cloak.

“Dirthamen,” Solas said cooly.

The god of secrets smiled. 

“My dear Solas,” they retorted. “What an unexpected surprise. It is so good to see you.”

Solas squared his shoulders, taking in the sight of Dirthamen. Other than their twin brother Falon’Din, the god of secrets had never settled for any particular appearance when they made their Passage. Instead, their appearance shifted constantly to keep their true nature concealed. That day, Dirthamen had chosen an androgynous form with white skin and long hair in the color of the dawn. Purple eyes regarded Solas with care and amusement. 

“Please excuse me if I’m being rude, Dirthamen, but I highly doubt that,” Solas said, casting a side glance at the ravens.

The elvhen god chuckled. “Such verve!” they cooed. “I always admired that about you. No wonder my mother chose to name you _ Pride _ instead of _ Wisdom_.”

Solas grit his teeth. 

“What do you want, Dirthamen?”

“I came here because of your quest for the Evanuris, of course,” the god said. “Although I admit that I have designs on my own that will displease the All-Father, so I hope you and I will keep this conversation in strict confidence.”

“If it pleases you,” Solas said without feeling truly compelled to oblige. _ No wonder Elgar’nan looked so displeased with his child during the gathering. He must have known that Dirthamen is plotting behind his back. _

If Dirthamen caught up on Solas’s reservations, they didn’t let it show. Instead, they raised one arm and called for their ravens. Fear and Deceit flapped their wings and flew over to Dirthamen to sit on their arm. 

Stroking their feathers, Dirthamen said, “My father asked you to go to kill the Black Dread, but I’d rather you keep the creature alive.”

“Why would you want that?” Solas asked, his voice cold as steel. “Whatever the Black Dread is, we already know that it brings death and destruction wherever it goes. If we allow it to live, it will continue to threaten the People and consume their essence.”

“True,” Dirthamen mused, “but only if it stays out of control.”

Solas blinked.

“And you think _ you _ can control it?” he asked, unconvinced. “How?”

The smile the elven god gave him seemed to cool the air around them.

“That’s my little secret, my dear Solas.”

“You must think me rather foolish to give in to such a request so easily,” Solas replied. “What do you wish to gain by approaching me so openly, Dirthamen? Spit it out because I have no time for your tedious games and riddles.”

Dirthamen groaned softly. “I don’t understand why you are so distrusting, dear Solas,” they purred. “Have I not been upright with you? Unlike my sister, I don’t have to hide my intentions from you. The Black Dread is more valuable than the All-Father or any of the other Evanuris know, and I wish to study it, to learn from it. For the benefit of the People.”

“And I am to believe you? Just like that?”

“My request is a simple one, and honest at that,” Dirthamen replied. “But if you need some kind of encouragement…” The elvhen god twisted their arm and the two ravens soared up into the air. “Seek this creature, locate it, and return to me. I will take care of the rest. No fighting, no bloodshed. You will have done what is best for the People and can go on with your life. Isn’t that what you truly want?”

Solas had to admit that there was an undeniable allure to Dirthamen’s offer. If he could choose freely, he’d prefer to abandon Arlathan and wander the wilds again. But he had devoted himself to Mythal and was bound to her until she decided to set him free. It was the deal he’d struck with her when he had manifested in a physical body ⎯ her protection in exchange for his loyalty and wisdom ⎯ and he would honor that deal, no matter what. Especially not now that she relied on him to end this crisis for her.

“And what about your father?” Solas asked. “I reckon he will be most displeased to see me return without the creature's blood on my hands.”

Dirthamen smiled. “Let me worry about my father.”

_ More half-truths_, Solas thought, inhaling deeply. _ If only Mythal were here… She would know how to end this. _

“You don’t believe me,” Dirthamen said, more a statement than a question. “I understand and respect that. Yet, I can’t help but wonder what _ your _ plans for the Black Dread are. What are your intentions, my dear Solas?”

“What makes you think I have plans of my own?”

“You always have plans,” Dirthamen said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Why else would you drag poor Felani into this mess?”

The sound of Felani’s name made Solas jolt upright.

“Leave her out of this,” he warned Dirthamen, his voice cool and controlled.

“Oh, I will. If you give me the location of the creature instead of killing it,” they replied. “Do so, and I assure you, nothing will happen to you or your friend.”

The offer was tempting. Still, every fiber in Solas’s body urged him to turn and escape this conversation as fast as possible. 

_ First Andruil, now Dirthamen _ , he thought. _ They are fighting for control, possibly trying to outsmart each other. I must be careful. _

“If you are willing to give me time. There are considerations to be made,” Solas said.

Dirthamen pressed their lips together. “Take your time, if you must,” the elvhen god said reluctantly, “but be careful about the decisions you make. They might lead to your untimely death, and I would rather not see that happen. Not yet, anyway.”

Solas stifled a cocky retort. Wasn’t this the solemn purpose of this whole endeavor ⎯ to get rid of him as well as the Black Dread?

_ Like hitting two birds with one stone. _

“Thank you for your patience,” Solas said through gritted teeth. “If you’ll excuse me. I have other matters to attend to before I depart from Arlathan.”

“Of course,” Dirthamen exclaimed, returning to their usually jovial behavior. “Would you please give my love to my mother when you see her again? Tell her, I miss her.”

Solas forced himself to smile. “I will.”

With that, he began to walk past Dirthamen and towards the eluvian that would lead him back to Mythal’s tower. He could feel the god’s gaze on him all the way, tickling his skin. It took him all he got not to burst out into a run. 

_ The sooner I venture south and kill this damn creature, the better, _ he thought, passing through the eluvian and sealing it safely behind him.


	9. Heart of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of eruptions threaten to tear down Arlathan. Meanwhile, Solas meets a young blacksmith and learns to fight (among other things).

> _ -4,600 Ancient _

The ground had been shaking violently for days, the earthquakes coming in rapid succession, tearing down entire buildings and burying every corporeal being inside. The People were frightened half to death and many fled Arlathan to seek shelter in the surrounding forest. Those remaining joined forces under the guidance of June and Daern’thal to rebuild what had been destroyed despite the constant eruptions that left the city less stable with each passing day. And for the first time since its founding, Arlathan found itself on the edge of extinction.

“It can not go on like this, mother,” Falon’Din said, standing before the thrones of Mythal and Elgar’nan. “The city is crumbling, no matter how hard we try. Even if we manage to endure until the earth stops shaking, how many will have perished by then? My halls are already crowded with corpses. We have to do something, quickly.”

The All-Mother and All-Father had called for an Arlathvhen, a gathering of the People, to decide the fate of the city. Elvhen and spirits alike were standing in a large circle around the dais on which Mythal and Elgar’nan sat in silence. Many people were covered in sweat and mud, their clothes stained from the reconstruction work. Their worry was so intense it was almost palpable and it made Solas’s skin crawl. 

Solas let his gaze wander, taking in the vast number of people who had come when Mythal and Elgar’nan had called for the Arlathvhen. They were so much more than he had expected. While he had been away to continue his studies in the Vir Dirthara, hundreds of spirits had taken a physical form. Even more had formed in the wilds and had begun their journey to become one of the elvhen. 

But there were also familiar faces among the crowd. Geldauran and his brothers stood in the front row, accompanied by several spirits that had begun serving in their halls after Solas had pledged himself to the All-Mother. Not far off were June and Sylaise holding hands. The two of them had been working tirelessly to secure the city and keep the elvhen fed. And then there was Dirthamen. They lurked close behind Falon’Din, eyeing their brother suspiciously. 

Falon’Din tilted his head slightly while he waited for the All-Mother and All-Father to say something. When they remained silent, Sylaise let go of June’s hand and stepped forward.

“I agree with Falon’Din.” She glanced at the other elvhen. “These eruptions will tear down Arlathan sooner or later. We have to get the People to safety if we are to survive.”

Solas, standing in attendance beside Mythal’s throne along with her other servants, had never seen the All-Mother in such distress before. The calm demeanor with which she used to tend to all matters had faded and had been replaced with a clenched jaw and restrained lips. Her hands gripped the armrest of her throne so tightly that her knuckles went white. 

She turned slightly in her chair and bent over to speak to Elgar’nan.

“What do you think?” Mythal said in a low voice.

The All-Father frowned. He, too, was at a loss. Solas could see it in the way he carried himself. The proud father of Elvhenan with his strong arms and broad shoulders looks small and childlike on his throne. He brushed fingers against the stubble on his chin and his eyes grew cold as if he was staring at something in the distance.

Solas took a deep breath and opened up to the energy of the Beyond flowing around him. Instantly, swirling images of dreams filled the air around him. Some were remnants of past events, some showed the things that might come to pass. He could feel Elgar’nan probing the fragments of the dreams, too, and they both saw the reflections of stones floating in the air and the earth roaring while it bent to someone else’s will. There were hazy images of hunters in leather armor scouting to the West, their silhouettes black against the mountains. Small black figures like ants leaving their nest crawled along the sides of the mountains and into the plain where the hunters waited, carrying with them a high-pitch sound that echoed in Solas’s mind like a bell. And then, a blast. The top of a mountain burst and rocks exploded into every direction. 

_ Is this the past or the future? _

He knew that Elgar’nan and Mythal had sent scouting parties to the East, West, and South when the earthquakes began. All were tasked with finding safe locations to which the People could retreat until the eruptions ceased. But maybe that wasn’t the end of it. Maybe the All-Father heard something in The Song that evaded Solas’s perception and could determine the most likely future out of all the possibilities laid out within the symphony at the heart of all things.

He thought about the eidolon Mythal had shown him when he had still been a spirit. It had felt as if he had been lifted up high into the air to roam the skies beside the All-Mother and the Divine. He remembered churning skies and crystal towers that almost touched the clouds. This was the future that had to come to pass for Elvhenan to exist. The vision that guided all of Elgar’nan’s and Mythal’s decisions. But neither did Arlathan possess the majestic crystal towers yet, nor did it have such close ties to the Beyond that made the sky come to life with magic.

_ How are these dreams linked? _ he wondered.

Then, suddenly, he had an idea.

Before he knew what he was doing, he abandoned his place by Mythal’s side to stand in front of her throne with Falon’Din and Sylaise. Solas felt everyone’s attention shift to him. Even Mythal turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Why don’t we raise the city up?” he asked aloud so that everyone could hear him.

A murmur went through the crowd. Disbelief and disapproval rippled in the Beyond.

“Hear me out,” he said and spread his arms in a pleading gesture. “Arlathan was founded on the notion that the People may subdue this world and bend it to their will. But it won’t obey our orders now. The eruptions are proof of that. Maybe it is time to sever the ties that bind us and claim our place in the skies. When the Earth won’t have us, we can raise Arlathan up from its foundation and relocate it among the clouds.”

Sylaise stared at Solas with wide eyes. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“I’ll admit that this is a dangerous gamble,” he said, “but I don’t see that we have any other choice. Many buildings are in terrible disrepair and dead are piling up. You said so yourself.” He pointed at Sylaise and Falon’Din. “We must act now. And up there, this great city and its people will no longer suffer from whatever force of nature is causing these earthquakes.”

June stepped beside his lover and pointed at him with one finger. “And who are you to tell us what to do?”

Solas frowned. “I am not telling you to do anything, June. I’m merely making a suggestion.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Geldauran raise a hand to cover the smile that was spreading on his face. Anaris beside him coughed and turned away before anyone noticed his amusement. When Solas turned to look at Geldauran and return a smile to him, the healer’s face hardened again. Solas felt a jab in his heart at that. He coughed and cast the feeling aside, so it wouldn’t distract him.

“Besides,” Solas continued, “we all know the dream that is Elvhenan. We have seen what it might become. The Divine have chosen us to protect this world. Why shouldn’t we follow in their footsteps and roam among the clouds?”

“He’s got a point there,” Dirthamen said calmly.

June bit his lip, clearly holding back a bitter reply, then nodded.

Behind them, Elgar’nan clapped his hands.

“Very well put, Solas,” he mused and rose from his throne. “It seems your mind really is as sharp as my dear Mythal claimed it to be.”

Solas bowed slightly, one hand pressed to his chest. “You honor me, All-Father.”

Elgar’nan nodded appreciatively, then turned his gaze towards the crowd and raised his hands to get its attention. “Solas is right. When the Divine had shared the dream of Elvhenan with Mythal and me, we walked the world with them. For the longest time, we have called down the magic of the skies to serve us down here. It is time for all of us to ascend to their side and claim our rightful place as leaders of this world.”

Solas felt a cold sensation tickle his skin. 

“This is not—”

“There is nothing more important to me than the safety of our kind,” Elgar’nan interrupted, disdain creeping into his tone. “But we can not let our fear limit our imagination. Mythal and I, we know what the People can be. What they are  _ supposed _ to be. If we make this right, raising Arlathan up into the sky won’t be a reaction to an immediate threat. It will set the People on the course to greatness.”

Solas cast a glance at Mythal who still sat on her throne and tried to deduce what she might think of Elgar’nan’s words. When she noticed him looking at her, she gave him a warm smile and set a wave of energy through the Beyond. The blood writing on his forehead came alive with her pride and a sense of reassurance. 

_ Don’t worry, _ he heard her whisper in his head.  _ I’ll take it from here. _

She stood and straightened her robes ones more.

“Wise words, my heart,” she said soothingly, placing a hand on Elgar'nan's arm. “You are right. It is time for the People to ascent to the heavens.”

“But how?” Geldauran raised his voice as well as his chin when he said those words. “It took ages to build the city. How are we supposed to raise it up into the sky so quickly?”

“We are many and we will all contribute to this great victory,” Mythal said loudly, her voice ringing like thunder. “Together, we will find a way to bend nature to our will again and make a new home for ourselves.” 

Before she got a chance to say more, a commotion started somewhere among the gathered people. They began shouting and arguing, the noise growing louder by the minute. Soon the crowd moved, pushing and shoving each other.

Mythal closed her eyes and let out a low sigh. Solas could feel her drawing from the infinite well of energy that was the Beyond. Her golden eyes lit up with its power like they had when she had used her magic to determine Solas’s purpose. 

“Step aside,” she commanded and dropped her connection to the Beyond.

The elvhen and spirits stepped aside to create a pathway through the crowd for a new arrival. A moment later, Andruil and ten of her hunters made their way through their gathered brethren to join the All-Mother and All-Father in the Place of Love. And they weren’t alone.

Two of Andruil’s hunters carried a creature between them. It had an uncanny likeness with the elvhen due to its two strong limbs and the massive armor that protected most of its body, but it was also smaller and much bulkier. Its arms dangled loosely to both sides while its legs and feet dragged across the stone floor. Solas focused on the Beyond and stretched out with his senses to touch the creature’s mind only to find it silent.

“There is more trouble coming,” Andruil announced when she passed her brothers Dirthamen and Falon’Din and bowed before her parents. She ordered her hunters to lay the creature before Mythal’s and Elgar’nan’s feet. 

“What is this, Andruil?” Elgar’nan asked, his eyes fixed on the creature.

“We found it and many more like it when we ventured West to investigate the cause of the earthquakes,” the huntress said and tapped the dead creature with one foot. The metal of its armor clanked at that. “We call them the Children of the Stone because it seems they are tied to the will of the Earth itself. When the last eruption shook the land, they crawled out of a fissure in the ground like insects swarming out to protect a nest. We faced them in combat, bringing down more than a hundred, but we lost many good hunters during the fight. They are armed and well-coordinated as if guided by a single mind. Still, we followed them down into the tunnels beneath the Earth from which they emerged and… and...”

Andruil stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. Her expression was tense, her fists clenched.

“What did you find down there?” Mythal asked softly.

The huntress sighed and drew strength from the Beyond. Then she closed her eyes and held out her hand to recreate her memories for everyone to see. Around her, the air wavered and shifted and filled with a great darkness. And in the darkness, there were tunnels only illuminated by the soft glow of burning magma. They stretched out infinitely in all directions like a gigantic hive. Each wall was carved with bold writing and in each tunnel were more Stonechildren guarding whatever lay within the Earth. They attacked with vigor and kept coming despite Andruil and her hunters cutting them down like weeds. It was as if there was no end to them just as there was no end to the deep roads they inhabited. 

A roar went through the crowd when they saw how Andruil and her entourage sneaked as deep into the tunnels as they dared without endangering themselves. The worry that had pervaded the air turned into fear and fright. Even Solas felt his throat go tight as he watched the Great Huntress bringing down more and more Children of the Stone until she had no other choice but to call for a retreat. 

Andruil, witnessing her defeat once more, sighed defiantly and let go of her magic. A heartbeat later, the memory she had conjured dispersed.

“How many of these Children of the Stone are down there?” Elgar’nan asked, his brows knit in a furrow.

“I didn’t stay long enough to count them,” Andruil said grimly, “but I guess there must be tens of thousands of them.”

* * *

Many more decisions were made that day. The most important one, apart from the plan to raise Arlathan up into the skies, was the declaration of war upon the Children of the Stone to stop them before they could emerge from their endless tunnels and walk the face of the Earth like Elgar’nan had seen it in the Song. To be successful on both fronts, the All-Father and All-Mother divided their forces and assigned tasks to those best suited for them. Those leaders were named  _ Evanuris _ , exalted leaders, and the People were happy they would guide them through these terrible times.

Elgar’nan himself chose to lead the soldiers westward to fight the Stonechildren. Andruil and all hunters who were willing to accompany her would go with them since they knew the terrain and had fought these enemies before. Dirthamen asked to join their father’s forces, too, surprising everyone. “My sister is undoubtedly a skilled tracker,” they had said to explain themself before the crowd, “but I’m sure my skill will prove useful when it comes to uncovering the secrets of these Stonechildren. If we can define the source of their power, we might take it from them before any elvhen blood is spilled.”

Before the Arlathvhen was disbanded, a young elvhen of no renown who went by the name of Ghilan’nain stepped forward and presented a creation of hers to the All-Father and the All-Mother. It was an elegant creature with white fur and silver antlers that twisted around themselves like an intricate crown. “This is the halla,” she told them and bowed reverently. “I have made many more of these to honor the greatness of Elgar’nan and Mythal. They will carry our soldiers into battle if you will have them. They will never bolt and never abandon you.” Andruil was particularly smitten with this new beast and the fair young woman who had created it and so she insisted that Ghilan’nain joined her hunting party.

Daern’thal set out to place rune markings along each street to stabilize the city for the time being. Sylaise secured as many supplies for the People and offered them shelter from coming eruptions. June, although he didn’t want to be parted from his lover, agreed to set up camp outside the city where he would forge new weapons and equipment to be sent to the Sun Soldiers as soon as they were ready. In the meantime, his brother Falon’Din would tend to the wounded and the dying in his famed Halls of the Dead. Geldauran, on the other hand, went with Elgar’nan’s forces to the West to keep as many soldiers alive as he could while Anaris would stay in the Halls of Healing and continue his brother’s work there.

As for my Mythal…

The All-Mother herself promised the People to craft the spell that would raise Arlathan into the air and tie the city to the magic of the skies. A most difficult task, as it turned out. Not only did Mythal need to figure out a way to keep the city afloat, but how to keep it supplied with fresh water and ways to travel back to the ground. So she made a spell that would allow the river to keep flowing through Arlathan by crafting something Solas could only describe as a portal that would redirect the flowing waters into the Beyond, where they would gather into a pool and then reemerge in a well beneath the city. To hold the vast pool of water, she asked Daern’thal to build a cistern beneath the Place of Love from which the water could flow up into its old riverbed to further to the North and South where they would tumble over the edge, closing the cycle. To redirect such an inordinate amount of water through the Beyond and into the realm of reality, sigils and seals were needed that would pour energy into the spell longer after it had been cast. The same was true for Arlathan itself. To keep the city afloat, a levitation spell had to be refined to draw energy from the Beyond on and on, or else the city would come crashing down. For this, Mythal sent Solas and a few other servants to invite the Librarians over to her tower and escort them on their way to Arlathan. The cloaked elvhen who had dedicated their lives to maintaining the knowledge of the People made themselves at home in the city despite the earthquakes that shook the ground every now and again and supplied the All-Mother will every thought ever recorded that could help with her spell.

After the arrival of the Librarians, Mythal would lock herself in with her guests and the spirits that assisted them to discuss every aspect of her plan. Solas was present for many of the talks, serving food and drinks as well as offering his own ideas. The Librarians—many of whom knew Solas from his regular visits at the Vir Dirthara—were thankful for his input, as was Mythal.

Weeks passed while the All-Mother worked on her spell. In all that time, vibrations came and went, leaving the city in a delicate state. Solas allowed himself only enough sleep to make it through the day, getting up before dawn to attend to Mythal’s needs and staying up long after midnight doing research or running errands on her behalf. The work distracted him from the distress of the People that lingered in the Beyond like a poisonous fume and seeped into his soul. Still, he could never quite shake the feeling that they were running out of time.

As weeks turned into months, Solas sat down in a quiet moment to write a letter to Geldauran to ask about news from the front. He had heard troubling things from Mythal who kept close correspondence with Elgar’nan and spent as much time as possible conferring with him in the Beyond. The death toll seemed to be catastrophic and the People’s spirit was all but broken, but they seemed to be holding up for the sake of Arlathan. So he offered a few words of encouragement to his old friend, although he doubted that Geldauran would respond. The old healer hadn’t spoken to him since the day Andruil had come to take Solas to Mythal’s tower, as if it pained him to see him.

_ Everything will be alright, _ Solas wrote in his flowing hand.  _ The All-Mother will see that the city is safe and ready for your return. And when you get back, I’ll be happy to welcome you as one of the first. There might have been a long silence between us, but I have missed your company as much as your guidance. I think you ought to know that. _

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to end his letter. Then, following an impulse, he set the quill down once more and wrote.

_ With love, Solas _

He had a spirit of Duty deliver the letter to a spirit in the Beyond who passed on information between Arlathan and the camp that Elgar’nan and the others had set up near the Western Mountains and returned to his duties.

“The spell needs to be tested before we can use it on the entire city,” Mythal explained that night. She was lounging on a sofa, her bare feet propped up. Her white skin seemed paler than usual in the moonlight that fell through the glass windows of her private chambers and the circles under her eyes were darker than Solas had ever seen them. “We can’t afford to let Arlathan fall apart because of rash action.” 

“I agree,” Solas replied and went to fetch her a cup of water, then began removing the pins that held her crown and hair in place.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling when he lifted the spiked diadem from her forehead. She leaned back in her chair, sighing softly, as Solas put the crown in a dedicated cabinet in Mythal’s clothing chamber.

“Sit with me,” she said with half-closed eyes and gestured towards one of the smaller chairs in her living quarters. 

“There is still so much to do and you are tired. I should–”

“Please,” Mythal intervened. “I insist.”

Solas sat down in one of the chairs right beside the sofa, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Is there something I can do?” he asked 

Mythal sighed again, her lips pursed into a smile. “No, my friend. You have done more than enough.”

Solas scoffed. “Why do I not feel like it, then?”

“That is the burden of wisdom,” Mythal pointed out, her hand gesturing languidly. “You know there is always something else to be done, some other fact that needs to be considered. But you are carrying it well. You have set the wheels in motion, after all, my friend. That is brutal, thankless work. Take a moment to enjoy yourself.”

“Do you think this is the right way to go?” Solas asked.

“Would I have agreed to lift Arlathan up into the sky otherwise?” Mythal retorted and took a sip from her cup, “or dedicate as much of my time and energy into crafting this spell?”

“Fair point.”

“I never got around to thank you, though,” she said. “For finding that future in the Song when neither Elgar’nan, nor I could see it. We were so preoccupied with the plight of the People that we couldn’t see how to best avoid it” She paused, turning her head slightly towards the window to cast a glance at the moonlight. “When I brought you into this world, I thought I knew what you would be capable of. Now I see that I have underestimated your abilities.”

A smile tugged at Solas’s lips. 

“I had a good teacher,” he said.

Mythal chuckled. “That you did.”

Solas let a moment of silence fall between them. One of only a few in these past few months. Not that they’d had time for idle conversation. All they ever talked about was the spell that would save the city and all the small tasks that came with it. 

“I need you to do something for me,” she said after a while, her voice thick with sleep. 

“For you, anything,” he replied.

“There are some things for June on my desk.” She made another vague gesture towards the archway that led to her study. “The Librarians helped me to figure out how to bind the magic of the levitation spell with runes but I need June to craft the anchor stones for me. I want you to take the schematics to him first thing in the morning.”

“Of course,” Solas said. “Anything else?”

“No.” She shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes closed once more. “Thank you, Solas. You may leave now.”

“As you wish.”

He bid his farewell and stood up to get the slip of parchment on which Mythal had jotted down the new assignment. When he returned to the living quarters, the All-Mother had already fallen asleep. He hurried to collect a blanket and pulled the soft fabric over his mentor, then left her to rest.

* * *

“What is this nonsense?” 

June looked at the slip of parchment in his hand, then back at Solas. 

“I think you know quite well what it is.”

The Master of Crafts was a rather short man compared to the rest of his kind, but what he lacked in height he made up in stature. His arms and neck were strong and muscular, his hands calloused from countless years of tireless work at the anvil. After his Passage, he had ingrained a mixture of ink and blood into his white skin that stood in stark contrast with his brown hair and leather clothing. The red runes twisted around his arms and hands and covered most of his back to give him strength even when his body reached natural exhaustion.

“I meant”, June growled, waving Mythal’s schematics at Solas like they were a whip to lash him with, “how am I supposed to fulfill this duty? My workers are already overwrought and all our materials go into outfitting the Sun Soldiers and their recruits.”

“I think we both agree that the safety of all elvhen should be our priority.”

“If our soldiers perish, we won’t need any anchors to keep the city afloat,” June growled. “I can hardly spare the materials.”

“The All-Mother trusts your abilities,” Solas said in a soothing tone. “She knows that if anyone is capable of this, it is you.”

A slight frown appeared on June’s face. “You flatter me,” he said in an attempt to sound displeased, but the tension on his face was already fading.

Solas smiled. “Hardly.”

“Alright, I see what I can do.” June stuffed the slip of parchment with the schematics into a pocket of his apron. “Return at midday. Then I can tell you how long it will take to craft the anchors the All-Mother requires for her spell.”

“Of course,” Solas said and bowed his head slightly. June nodded approvingly and returned to his work.

June and his blacksmiths had set up camp a few miles outside of Arlathan, next to an encampment that Elgar’nan’s soldiers used to train the new recruits. Since the last gathering in the city, many elvhen had erected tents and other makeshift hideouts to flee the chaos of the city or to help with the war effort. The hustle and bustle on the muddy walkways between the tents reminded Solas of the early days of Arlathan when the People had first gathered. It was an example of what the elvhen had already accomplished and what they could still accomplish if they joined forces to support a common cause.

_ We have come so far, _ he thought with no small amount of pride as he wandered around. 

Soon, he found himself near the training grounds. The clank of metal against metal rang in his ears, as the Sun Soldiers there danced around each other with swords and shields in their hands. He stopped and watched one of the instructors yell at the new recruits. Going by the reflections of their emotions left in the Beyond, many of the recruits had barely made their Passage and had only begun to realize what life as a servant of the All-Father truly meant. Their eyes were filled with terror when they saw the blades of their superiors light up with magical energy. 

“Your fear blinds you,” one of the instructors shouted after he had struck down a young woman who had failed to parry his strike. “Don’t let it get the better of you or you will die.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” the young woman whispered, her lips trembling. “Please.”

“Then get up and fight!”

She did better on her second attempt, but it still wasn’t enough. The instructor disarmed her and sent her to the ground again in one swift move. The recruit fell and screamed when she hit the ground. The others stood there watching from the side-lines like pillars of salt. 

“If you don’t give this your all, then why are you here?” the instructor yelled and the young woman flinched.

“Is that wise?” Solas asked.

The instructor turned to look at him. The bright vallaslin of Elgar’nan that covered half his face seemed to absorb the sunlight.

“What would you know of this?” he snapped and gestured toward the recruit who still cowered at his feet. Then his eyes gleamed with recognition. The instructor held his sword up, the tip pointed directly at Solas. “I know you! You’re the All-Mother’s errand boy. Solas, isn’t it?”

“That is correct, my friend.”

“I’m not your  _ friend _ ,” the instructor spat. “And I won’t let a soft intellectual like you tell me how to train my recruits.”

“All I’m saying is that it is hardly beneficial if your recruits exert themselves to the point of exhaustion. It slows their reflexes and makes them prone to more mistakes. This can hardly be the outcome you desire.”

The instructor crossed the distance between himself and Solas in a few fast strides, accompanied by a tide of anger rippling through the Beyond. “And what would you know of this?” he snarled. “Last I checked, the All-Mother has locked herself in with all her servants while we do the dirty work of defending Arlathan.”

_ Aren’t you a charming fellow,  _ Solas thought.

He sucked in a sharp breath and cleared his mind of hostile thoughts.

“Rage is one of the oldest feelings of all,” Mythal had told him. “It is also the most destructive. If not kept in check, it will consume and destroy you as well as your opponents.”

“The All-Mother might not engage in direct combat,” Solas said as calmly as possible, “but her actions contribute to the well-being of Elvhenan as much as any battle.”

“Ha!” The instructor spat. “That’s one way to put it.”

Solas frowned. “How would you put it, then?”

The soldier waved a finger in Solas’s face. “The All-Mother has no taste for glory. She’d rather sit around and think about things. And yet her knowledge and wisdom have not prevented any of this. Quite the opposite. You have us fight and die while you try to figure out… whatever it is you’re doing up in that tower.”

Solas opened his mouth, a quick comeback already on his lips.

“Let him be, Imras,” a voice said from behind. “It’s not worth it.”

Both Solas and the instructor cast a side-glance at the woman who walked over to join them. She was almost as tall as Solas and looked like she could split a rock in two with her bare hands. The white lines of June’s vallaslin graced the tawny skin of her face, accentuating her thick black hair and strong eyebrows.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, a challenging look in her amber eyes.

“Why don’t you give everyone a break, Imras?” she cooed. “I’m sure you could use one, too.”

“The All-Father…”

“Is not here to police you,” she replied. “You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone.”

Imras looked at the woman for a long moment, his eyes still bright with anger. Then he let out a huff and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Fine,” he said aloud, turning to the recruits. “Everyone, get yourself something to eat and drink. We’ll continue this later.”

A wave of gratitude and relief erupted from the young soldiers who had watched the exchange. They picked up their training weapons and scattered as fast as they could. Imras himself glared at Solas one last time, then marched off and vanished in one of the tents that encircled the training ground.

“You’re lucky that I stopped by,” the woman said and smiled at Solas. “Imras can be pretty nasty when someone questions his authority.”

“So I have gathered,” Solas replied and offered a soft smile in return.

She held out a hand to him.

“My name is Felani.”

“Solas.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said. “The spirit of wisdom that served in Geldauran’s hall before the All-Mother took you in.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at that. 

“That is not why most people remember me.”

She huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I bet. You made quite the entrance during the last Arlathvhen.”

“But you seem to know me from elsewhere,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember seeing you in Geldauran’s halls when I was there. Were you one of his patients?”

She raised both hands in defiance. “Oh no, I never needed his treatment. But Geldauran used to come by to watch me and the others fight. Patched up a few of us, too. Not much fun when the drinking starts, though. He used to talk a lot about you and that he enjoyed your company. You didn’t have a name back then, as I recall.”

“I didn’t,” Solas admitted. “It was Mythal who gave me my name.”

“Well, she seems to have named you well,” Felani said, regarding Solas’s face closely. 

Solas felt his heart skip a beat when she looked into his eyes. She smelled of wood, and ash, and dry earth after a midsummer’s rain. He caught himself looking at her full lips, the sharp curve of her cheeks and chin, and wondered what she might taste like.

“You have Geldauran’s eyes,” she noticed. 

“I, eh,…” Solas stammered. “Yes. It was my way of… honoring him. For taking me in when he didn’t have to. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.”

Felani raised her eyebrows, lips pursed in a smile. “That’s quite sweet, you know.”

Solas swallowed hard and hoped his cheeks didn’t feel as warm as they suddenly felt. 

“One thing interests me though,” she said and nodded towards the empty training grounds. “Do you know how to fight?”

“Well, yes.” Solas said and clasped his hand behind his back. “Technically.”

“Technically?”

“There are many scriptures on the nature of combat in the Vir Dirthara,” Solas pointed out.

Felani laughed, her voice bright like a bell. 

“So you’re telling me you never fought against anyone?” she asked. “Not even a sparring match?”

“My spellwork is alright,” Solas assured her, “although I admit I never had to use it against an opponent. The spirits in Mythal’s service are too kind-natured to engage in a fight, not even a practice one.”

“What about swords?”

Solas shifted uncomfortably on his feet, struggling to withstand her inquisitive gaze. “Not really my area of expertise,” he admitted after a long pause.

“You were all bluster then.” Felani crossed her arms in front of her chest. Solas could almost hear her thoughts as she sized him up again. “Want to learn how to do it? Fighting, I mean.”

Solas blinked, gaping at her. “And why would I do that?”

“So you can prove Imras wrong, for one.” She held up a hand, counting her fingers. “Secondly, combat has become an integral part of elvhen life as long as the city is in danger. Knowing the challenges our soldiers face can’t hurt. And thirdly,” she grinned. “It’s never wrong to extend your knowledge. And that’s what you do, after all, isn’t it? Seeking knowledge?”

“And you would share this knowledge with me?” he asked, gesturing towards the training grounds.

Felani raised her chin. “Why not?”

“June was rather concerned when I came to speak with him this morning,” Solas replied. “He told me his people are overworked.”

She waved him off. “That is true for most of them, yes,” she said. “But not me. I’m… different. Besides, even a blacksmith needs to have some fun on the side. These times are dark enough as they are. I might enjoy watching you dance.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at that, regarding her intently. Despite the fact that Felani’s aura had the most peculiar effect on his awareness, he couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. Her mind made the Beyond hum with a strong and steady rhythm, like the sound of a drum. 

_ Or the sound of hammer on an anvil. _

“I can hardly argue with that,” he said, cutting his connection to the Beyond. “Alright, teach me. We’ll see if I’m as bad a fighter as Imras claims.”

* * *

Solas spent the remaining time to midday talking with Felani until it was time to pick up June’s reply to Mythal and head back to Arlathan. They had agreed to meet on the training ground before sunrise so they would have at least an hour or two before Imras and the other soldiers woke the recruits to exercise. It wasn’t much but Felani promised that it would be enough to give Solas a taste of combat and teach him a few tricks. 

Upon his return to the tower, Solas sought out Mythal in her private study to inform her of his plans. To his surprise, his excitement was met with calm reservations.

“Well, if that is your wish, I can hardly refuse, can I?” Mythal said, setting aside a letter from Elgar’nan.

  
“But you don’t want me to train with Felani,” Solas said, a realization more than a real question.

Mythal laughed sardonically. “It’s not that I don’t want you to or that I doubt your willingness to learn. I’m more afraid of how it might affect you.”

Solas frowned. “It’s just for exercise, anyway.”

“True, but you were a spirit of wisdom,” she told him. “Your strength lies within your mind, your heart. Fighting, on the other hand, only requires the urge to survive. It offers no deeper meaning and stands in stark contrast to the things that define you.”

“So you are concerned because fighting is not in my nature,” Solas remarked.

“Precisely.” Mythal’s eyes gleamed. “But as I said, I can hardly refuse. If you want to try, by all means, please do so. Just promise me to take care of yourself. If you notice any undesirable influences, return to me at once.”

“Of course,” Solas said, stifling a sigh of relief.

That night, he went to bed as early as possible but found himself too excited to sleep. Instead, he gave himself to the Beyond and let its calm currents carry him into pleasant dreams. There, his mind conjured an image of Felani, smiling at him defiantly, smelling of wood and ash like she had before. He imagined her cupping his cheek with one hand, her full lips brushing ever so softly against his.

When Duty came to wake him, his heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were flushed as if he had spent the night running. He splashed his face with water to clear his thoughts, then dressed in tight but comfortable clothing just as Felani had instructed. When he left the tower, he found the city quiet. The eruptions had ceased for a short while, giving the inhabitants of Arlathan a moment to gather themselves. The People’s relief pervaded the air like sweet incense and Solas took it in while we walked to meet Felani.

She was already waiting for him when he arrived at the training grounds, igniting the braziers around the place to help them see. She wore a dark-green training suit that left her toes and heels bare and had tied her thick black hair in braids. 

“There you are,” she said with a smile and conjured a spark of flame to light the last brazier. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

Felani had brought two pairs of shin guards and vambraces from June’s armory, one for each of them. Solas glanced at her while he strapped the pieces to his calves and forearms. Her amber eyes were bright and clear, her mind focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t help but admire such determination.

“Let’s start simple,” she told him once they had put on the armor. She showed Solas how to stand and how to hold his arms. She had him punch and kick to assess his fitness and technique before she corrected him and had him try again. When she was certain that he had understood the basics, she gave him a wooden sword. “Let’s practice with these before we start with anything more elaborate,” she said. “It requires less focus.”

She asked Solas to attack again, this time parrying his blows with a sword of her own. His first two strikes were clunky and she dodged them easily. On his third attempt to overcome her defenses, Solas lost his footing and stumbled. Felani turned sideways and came to a halt just as Solas hit the ground, his sword slipping away with a clatter.

“Oh boy!” She laughed. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Solas coughed and spat out a mouthful of dirt he had accidentally swallowed when his face kissed the ground. “Not much need for combat skills in the Vir Dirthara,” he said and tried to hold back his embarrassment.

“That much is true,” Felani admitted, sheathed her blade and held out a hand. “Come.”

Solas brushed aside his hurt feelings and let her help him to get back on his feet. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” 

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand encouragingly.

And there it was again. That feeling of warmth and excitement. Solas felt a knot tightening in his throat. How did she do this? Why did her very presence captivate so much of his attention? 

“Well… I...”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she told him and let go of his hand. “But maybe we have a look at your spellwork next. You said you were good at it.”

Solas swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders, thankful to have something different to focus his mind on.

He let his mind plunge into the Beyond and drew from its infinite well of energy. The magic surged into his body immediately and he cast his first spell. The air around him cooled instantly, crystalizing the tiny drops of water within. They formed a spear that he then pushed forward by sheer force of will. The ice hit a training dummy on the far side of the training ground, engulfing it. A heartbeat later, the dummy exploded into a myriad of ice shards that soon dissipated.

Felani stared at the dummy with wide eyes.

“Alright, you’re not completely beyond hope,” she said. “How about barriers?” 

Solas was happy to oblige, finding confidence in his own spellwork. Felani watched closely as he conjured barriers to protect himself. Soon after, the Sun Soldiers emerged from their tents and made rounds to wake the recruits for their morning exercise. Felani and Solas decided to continue their own training the next day and parted ways. When he went to bed that night after an entire day of aiding Mythal in her grand endeavor to raise Arlathan up into the sky, his muscles were sore and his mind exhausted, but he slept better than he had in weeks.

From there on, Solas’s days followed the same steady rhythm. A trusty spirit would wake him hours before dawn so he could make it to his training sessions with Felani in time. Afterwards, he would hurry back to the city to refresh himself, put on fresh clothes and tend to the All-Mother’s needs. With time, the exercises became less tiresome while he refined what little skill he had at physical combat. He was able to strike, block and parry basic attacks with and without weapons and quickly learned to combine his moves with powerful spells to maximize certain effects. 

A month later, Felani presented Solas with a set of light armor she had retrofitted to his measurements. The metal posed a challenge all of its own, tiring him far quicker than his training suit. It also limited his freedom of movement. He had trouble adapting to the new outfit, but he was determined to master it. And so he did. Or at least he tried. 

Because despite his best attempts to focus on their training, he often found himself captivated by Felani’s natural energy. She always had a smile on her lips and a defiant look in her eyes, as if she was tempting him to do something foolish. And he behaved more foolishly than he’d like to admit. More often than not, he found himself face-first on the ground because of a slight in focus or an ill-executed maneuver. He didn’t mind anymore. Her bright laughter made each and every one of his mistakes worthwhile.

There were also instances between exercise when they would share a jug of water and simply talk. Then she told him about her work with June and what news she heard from acquaintances with the Sun Soldiers who had gone with Elgar’nan to fight the Stonechildren. And he, in turn, would share stories from his studies in the Vir Dirthara or the long days he spent with Mythal untangling the mysteries of the Beyond to craft new spells. All the while, Solas noticed the growing urge to pull her close to take in that intoxicating smell of hers.

It began to distract him during training sessions, too. Whenever Felani would lock him in with her sword, pushing hard to throw him off balance, he felt this peculiar pull towards her. He was almost glad when she brought him down and stepped away to boast with a broad smile. Then it was easy to pretend that his cheeks blushed because of the exertion, not because his body was aching for her. 

_ This is not how it’s supposed to be,  _ he scolded himself whenever he returned to Arlathan and found himself missing her. And still, he dreamt of her every night when he wasn’t too exhausted from his work.

“I think you’re ready for the next step,” Felani said a few days later when Solas joined her on the training grounds. She was clad in a simple coverall with silverite guards on her forearms and simple foot wrappings and wore a two-handed sword strapped to her back. Before Solas could ask what she meant by this, she handed him a two-handed sword in a sheath of gold and velvet. Solas frowned and unsheathed the sword only to find that it had no blade. Instead, the hilt was ingrained with intricate writing that gave of soft green light.

Felani reached out with one hand, her fingers gracing the hilt gingerly. “One of my best works,” she told him. “The sword is constantly connected to the magic of the Beyond, but it needs a powerful spellcaster to channel the energy into the hilt and warp it into a solid blade. It will require a lot of focus and stamina.”

“Well, isn’t that perfect,” Solas said before he could stop himself.

Felani’s eyebrows knit into a furrow. “Don’t think you're up for the challenge?”

In that moment, he would have loved to tell her the truth. That he felt drawn to her like a moth to flame. That he had slowly lost all ability to form clear thoughts every time she was near him. That he wanted to tear that suit off her to get a taste of her skin. But it didn’t seem right, like he was being too selfish. Felani had offered to train him when she had no reason to and had carved out a bit of her time each day to teach him. She deserved to be treated with respect and kindness, not... whatever his body was urging him to do to her.

“Solas?”

“It’s nothing.” He shook his head and forced himself to smile at her. “Let’s get started. Won’t we need armor for this exercise?”

She looked at him for a long moment with a puzzled expression on her face, then shrugged off her disbelief. “No,” she said slowly. “It’ll take all you’ve got to focus on the Beyond and the blade. I don’t want you struggling with the armor.”

She drew her own sword–a regular one with a blade of solid steel–and fell into a fighting stance. “Well, let’s get started.”

Solas took a deep breath and followed her example. Before he attacked, he opened his mind to the energy of the Beyond and let it flow through him and into the hilt of the sword in his hands. There was a cracking sound, then a flash of light, but not much else.

“You have to form a vivid picture of the blade in your mind,” Felani told him. “Just like when you made your body during the Passage.”

“I figured as much,” Solas said grimly, tightening his grip on the hilt. His brows furrowed as he tried again and was able to conjure up enough energy to form the shadow of a blade. 

“Keep going,” Felani said. “You’re almost there.”

He let his mind dive deeper into the Beyond and redirected the energy. This time, the blade took solid form, woven together from air and energy, and the sword grew heavy in his grip. His muscles tensed as he tried to get a better hold on it. 

“Alright,” Felani said, sounding pleased. “Now, attack.”

Solas lunged forward, swinging the blade. She made a sidestep to evade his blow. “Focus, Solas,” she said. “You can do this.”

With his next lunge, he managed to meet her steel blade. The metal groaned, while his own weapon vibrated with crackling heat. “Better,” Felani said, brows furrowed. “Let’s pick up some speed.”

Solas, gaining confidence, smiled grimly, twisted the blade and made a step to the side to attack anew. Felani spun around, bringing her own weapon down, but Solas dodged, turned and came at her from a low angle. Felani took a wide step to evade his attack that left her right side exposed. Solas swung his blade but missed her by inches. She did a forward roll and turned around to face him again, her weapon raised high. “Come on,” she purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Solas made his own stance match hers, feeling his focus shift. 

The blade met yet again, locking them both in, and Felani pressed hard to test his will. Solas could feel her warm breath on his face. It smelled of honey and cinnamon and something else… He caught himself caring much more for the curved line of Felani’s lips than their fight, but he couldn’t adjust his focus, the conjured blade in his hand began to waver like hot air. He felt sweat trickling down his temple as he tried to maintain the stream of energy.

“Focus,” she pressed through gritted teeth. 

He pulled away from her, yanking the sword away before the blade evaporated. Cursing under his breath, Solas loosened his grip on the hilt for a moment. 

“That was…,” he said, struggling to find the right word. “Let me try again.”

Felani looked at him, perplexed. “Alright, but it’ll be on your head.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Solas saw her readying her sword once more. He huffed in frustration, then forced himself to redirect his attention to the Beyond and the hilt in his hand. This time, the blade formed faster than before.  _ A small victory,  _ he thought.

Solas turned to Felani and charged at her, bringing his sword up in a high ark. She anticipated his move and lifted her blade to block his strike. He pushed hard against her, but she shoved him away with a groan. Solas couldn’t help but smile complacently when she wiped the sweat from her brow afterwards. 

They circled each other, both waiting for the other to make the next move. In the end, Solas made a tiny step forward to lure her into opposing him, then backed away when she swung her sword at him. Felani was caught off balance for a tiny moment and he used it to dance around her. He came up behind her and put the blade to her throat.

“Got you,” he said.

Felani’s eyes gleamed. 

“You think so?”

Before he could think of a witty reply, she dropped her sword and knocked his feet out from under him. He fell backwards and landed hard on his back, stars dancing before his eyes. He grasped for the Beyond to clear his senses, but Felani had already struck the sword from his hand. The magic from which Solas had crafted its blade dispersed and the hilt clattered away. Solas brought his arms up to his face to deflect Felani’s next blow when she came down to push one knee into his stomach. She held out one arm and drew so much energy from the Beyond that Solas could feel the flow tingling his senses. Within seconds, the guard strapped to Felani’s right forearm liquified and twisted like water around her fingers only to reshape itself into a small blade. A moment later, Solas could feel the cool metal pushing against his throat.

“I guess that's my round,” Felani said. “Again.”

“Well fought,” Solas said, panting heavily. 

He expected her to smile triumphantly. Instead, she frowned.

“I know that you’re much better than that pitiful display you put on today,” Felani said. “You were distracted. Why?”

“I have a lot on my mind,” Solas said evasively.

“Yeah, sure.” Finally, her expression relaxed and a casual smile tugged at her lips again. “You want to bed me, don’t you?”

A wave of heat surged through him and reddened his face.

“What? No!” he exclaimed.

Felani laughed, joy radiating from her like warmth from a fire. She twisted her wrist and the blade in her hand reshaped itself again, encasing her forearm gently and turning into mere guards again. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Solas.”

She put her hand on his chest, her fingers gingerly tracing the lines of his collarbone and sternum. Solas stared at her with wide eyes, struggling to breathe. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t feel your emotions in the Beyond?” she asked softly, her voice lowered to a whisper, as her fingers stroked his stomach and reached his abdomen. She shifted slightly on top of him, allowing her hand to assess his more delicate parts through the fabric of his pants. Solas gasped as her fingers pressed against him, teasing him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked in a low voice.

“I thought … it wasn’t appropriate,” Solas said. “You invested so much time and energy into training me. It would be a poor reward if I only saw you as… you know…”

Felani raised an eyebrow at that, one corner of her lips twisted into a smile. She bent down and cupped his cheek with one hand. Her amber eyes locked with his, that same defiant look in them that Solas had noticed when they had first met. Her thumb stroked his lips ever so softly.

“Why do you think I offered to train you?” she whispered.

Solas felt as if his heart was about to jump into his throat. Her smell lingered in the air and robbed him of any clear thought, in spite of his attempts to regain control. Every fiber in his body tensed up with excitement, with unadorned desire. 

Felani chuckled, her breath tingling his face.

“You’re very sweet,” she said and kissed him.


	10. Bloody Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arlathan is almost ready to be raised into the sky. Mythal anoints her Sentinels. Solas and Felani spent the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. If you like to read a smut-free version, you can find it [over here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811559/chapters/65408767).

> _ -4,600 Ancient _

On his way back to Arlathan, all Solas could think about was Felani’s kiss. He couldn’t quite believe that it was a real memory, not just another feverish dream. To finally feel her lips on his own had been the sweet culmination of all the little moments in which she had captivated his mind and body during these past few months. It made him wonder how long she had been sensing the reflections of his feelings for her in the Beyond while they trained. He certainly hadn’t picked up any of her emotions in return. Then again, he had been too enraptured to notice. And when she had bowed down to kiss him, all he could do was to feel her warmth beneath his fingers and savor the sweet taste of her in his mouth.

Luckily, Felani had shown the restraint he no longer had, pulling away the moment he was about to lose himself entirely. “Not here,” she had breathed, glancing at the tents near the training ground where the Sun Soldiers and their recruits slept. “I will come to you,” she’d said and had kissed him one last time. “I promise.” 

It had cost Solas what precious little self-control he’d had left to let her go. Of course he knew that it hadn’t been the right time or place for love-making but, sweet skies, it had been the hardest thing he had ever done. His body kept aching for her even after he’d had a cold bath that was meant to help him think straight. His mind still wandered off, conjuring up the memory of her touching him. He’d felt more alive with her than he ever had since he had made his Passage.

He dried his hair and wove it into a single braid that fell over one shoulder, then dressed in a tight-fitting tunic, leggings, and a wool coat. After a look in the mirror and making sure he was somewhat presentable, he hurried up the steps to the top-level of Mythal’s tower. A spirit of diligence was already preparing the All-Mother’s breakfast on a small side table by the main entrance. Solas thanked the spirit and picked up the plate. In drawing energy from the Beyond, he made sure that Mythal had already awoken before he entered her private chambers.

She was sitting in her study, commanding a quill with her magic to hastily jot down her thoughts. Her silvery hair was open and flowed freely down her shoulders and back like quicksilver. She hadn’t even bothered to change her robes and still wore the dark blue nightgown she used to sleep in.

“Good morning,” she said without looking up when Solas entered the study and set the plate with the breakfast on a nearby table. The quill didn’t waver.

“Urgent news from the front?” he asked.

“Yes.” Mythal’s voice grew dark with concern. “Elgar’nan has led his vanguard deeper into the Earth to push back the advance of the enemy. They have made camp in a large cavern two days ago and are now exploring the corridors. The Children of the Stone are sending troops to harass our soldiers every few hours, but in the narrow tunnels, they lose the advantage of superior numbers. Still, there are only a few of our soldiers left to fight. Many are injured or scared out of their wits and can not continue. If we don’t end this war soon, countless lives will be lost.”

Solas swallowed hard. Imagining the dark roads beneath the Earth crawling with enemy forces wasn’t a pleasant thought, to say the least. 

_ How terrible it must be for those down there… _

“Lucky for us, it seems like Ghilan’nain’s help is more valuable than we thought,” Mythal added. “Her creations have given our soldiers an edge in the fight against the Stonechildren. We should keep an eye on her once all of this is over.”

“Agreed,” Solas said and paused. How long since he had written that letter to Geldauran? It must have been months since he’d sent it to the front and he had never heard back from the healer. 

“I don’t suppose you have received word from Geldauran?” he asked cautiously. 

Mythal’s eyebrow arched, but she didn’t lift her gaze to look at Solas. “It seems he’s been doing a good job of keeping the soldiers alive this far. But considering the great numbers of our enemy, more and more elvhen need to be committed into Falon’Din’s care. In the Eternal Dream, they can find some rest at least.”

“I see,” Solas mused, lost in thought. 

A few moments of silence fell between them before Mythal sighed softly and let the quill drop into the ink fountain. She stretched and leaned back in her chair, her long pale fingers resting gingerly on its arms. Despite the shadows beneath her eyes that seemed to get darker with every passing day, the expression on her face was caught somewhere between astonishment and amusement.

“Well, look at you,” Mythal remarked and flashed a knowing smile at him. “Did you finally work up the courage to tell Felani you like her?”

Solas felt his jaws go tense, but the sensation subsided quickly. He should have expected that Mythal had already traced his flustered feelings in the Beyond. He wouldn’t put it past her to have known about his affection for Felani the moment he had told her about his plan to train with her.

“I–” He paused. “Well, it turned out that I didn’t have to tell her at all. She was already aware.”

Mythal laughed at that. “She’s a woman after my own heart.”

“She has an admirable spirit,” Solas agreed, hurrying to fetch a carafe of water for the All-Mother. “And she is a skilled warrior. I could not ask for a finer teacher.”

Mythal’s gaze remained fixed on Solas as he poured her a cup of water and set it down on the desk. She thanked him again and put her hands up, her fingertips touching in an inquisitive gesture.

“Do you love her?” she asked.

Solas felt heat rising in him, flushing his cheeks. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted. “There is certainly a strong attraction between us, but if it is more than that, I can not say.”

“Whatever it is, I’m happy for you. It was about time you took interest in something other than your duty. Besides, sex is one of the main benefits of having a physical body. You should enjoy it as often as you can.”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he said hoarsely, trying to conceal the wave of embarrassment that washed over him.

“I never thought I’d live to see you speechless,” Mythal replied with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry into your romantical endeavors any longer. What happens between the two of you is your personal business. But I hope you enjoy the time you spent with her. You deserve some happiness.”

“Thank you,” Solas said, straightening his shoulders. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

The All-Mother rose from her chair and pulled the nightgown tighter. “Shivanas laid out the green robes in my bedroom last night, I think. Please fetch them for me so I can get dressed after breakfast. And please tell Faith that I’m ready to see the candidates. They shall wait in the Hall of Contemplation. I will meet them as soon as possible. And I’d love to have you there with me. Your personal assessment will be a valuable asset.”

“Of course,” Solas said and hurried to fulfill her requests.

* * *

After months of preparation, Mythal’s spell was almost ready to be cast. The formula was stable, the magic tried and tested. June and his smiths had finished the enchantments on the so-called anchor stones and had safely installed them in dedicated places Mythal had marked on a map for them. Now, there were only two things left to do to make her plan work. 

One would be for Mythal to ready herself to draw as much energy from the Beyond as possible to fuel her spell. The other were the three hundred candidates that awaited the All-Mother’s arrival in the Hall of Contemplation. A number of them would be chosen to pour energy into the anchor stones while Mythal cast her spell. But first, their control of the Beyond needed to be tested.

All of the candidates were elvhen who had made their Passage about a century ago. A sufficient enough time for them to master their magic, yet not too long a period to have lost their will to prove themselves. Their eagerness and their passion for power were valuable tools, provided both were put to good use. In giving them an honorable task, the All-Mother would ensure that they served the People to the best of their abilities. 

Solas and Faith – the spirit who had been responsible for choosing and recruiting the candidates – saw to the young elvhen while they waited. Some were very quiet and prayed before the Vhenadahl to focus their mind. Others controlled their nervousness by chatting and showering Solas and the spirit with questions. While Solas talked with them, telling them about the centuries he had spent training with Mythal, he realized that many of his brethren never got to know the All-Mother as intimately as he had. It reminded him that he enjoyed the privilege of being in Mythal’s good graces. Still, many of the elvhen that were gathered in the hall showed remarkable focus and restraint – qualities that would be useful once the ritual to raise Arlathan into the air had begun. 

When Mythal finally entered the Hall of Contemplation, the mood in the room shifted and the nervousness of the candidates transformed into grim sincerity. They turned to the entrance and squared their shoulders, then stood at parade rest. 

“My friends,” Mythal said and let her gaze wander over the gathered crowd. “It is a pleasure to welcome you here.” She made a grand gesture that seemed to enclose not only the hall but all of Arlathan. “I won’t bore you with a long-winded explanation. You already know why you were summoned here.” With that, her eyes flicked to Faith who had chosen the candidates gathered in the hall due to their strong belief in the dream of Elvhenan and the All-Mother’s work. “Today I will assess each one of you to see if you really are as capable as I hear.”

Mythal walked slowly towards the candidates, her hands clasped before her, and told them about the spell she had crafted. While she spoke, none of the elvhen dared to make a sound. It was as if they were all holding their breaths out of fear to miss a single syllable of Mythal’s speech. Even Solas who had help with the creation of the spell found himself captivated by her words.

“Seventy of you will be chosen,” she explained, “to charge the anchor stones with energy from the Beyond during the ritual. Then, and only then, the magic will gain a foothold in the Waking World and keep the city afloat.”

Mythal stopped in front of the crowd and took a moment to look several of the elvhen in the eyes. 

“But that is not where your duty will end,” she continued. “Once the city is secured, you will be known as Sentinels, proud protectors of Arlathan. Your hard work will ensure the safety of the People for the ages to come. This is not a commitment taken lightly and those who would rather not shoulder such a grave responsibility are free to go. I promise there will be no repercussions for leaving. The only thing I ask is that you put your abilities to good use and serve your brethren as well as they serve you.”

An eerie silence filled the room. Solas watched the candidates closely as they cast nervous side-glances at each other. Some were plagued by uncertainty but none dared to walk away.

“Very well,” Mythal said after a while. “Let us begin.”

Faith started calling the candidates and the elvhen stepped forward one by one to be examined by the All-Mother. They bowed their heads and waited while Mythal sized them up carefully. Solas, watching from a place by the Vhenadahl, could feel his mistress draw energy from the skies to assess each candidate carefully. Her eyes gleamed as she let herself shift back into the realm of spirits, her mind all but detaching itself from her body. At one point, the magic around her whirled and became visible as a pale green mist that formed a ghostly reflection of Mythal’s dragon wings. He could hear several of the candidates gasp as the wings unfolded and send a gust of wind in every direction. Solas, however, was not so easily shaken. While the All-Mother assessed each candidate, he focussed on the remaining elvhen and examined their posture, their expressions, and their emotions. 

Their admiration for the All-Mother was palpable but there were many among the candidates who also feared her. It was an old and very potent feeling, and also a dangerous one. As one of the three primal emotions, fear had the power to drive anyone out of their right mind and twist even the most skilled elvhen against their own purpose.

Solas made a mental note of all the candidates in which he detected a kernel of fear. He let Mythal know what he found with a quick glance when Faith called the respective elvhen to step forward. And each time, his vallaslin tingled and she nodded to show that she understood. 

And so the hours passed as Mythal chose the few best suited to become Sentinels. Those not chosen, she sent to Daern’thal and Sylaise and asked them to help their elders with the evacuation of the city. When she had finally picked the seventy elvhen who would aid her during her ritual, the sunlight was already fading.

The Sentinels fell to their knees and invoked Mythal’s name like a blessing and the All-Mother smiled solemnly while she watched them. “The People will owe you their safety,” she told them. “You shall receive a boon in return.” 

The elvhen lifted their faces to look at the All-Mother. Their hope and longing sent gentle ripples through the Beyond.

“For your loyalty and your labor, I will give you my protection,” Mythal said. “Through the vallaslin, we will be bound to each other and together we will accomplish marvelous things.” 

She smiled at the Sentinels like a well-meaning mother encouraging her children. Pride flushed her cheeks and made her seem more at ease than she had been in months.

Mythal glanced at Faith, wordlessly signaling the spirit to bring her a ritual knife. The spirit bowed and presented her the blade on a small blue cushion. She took the knife and examined it for a moment before she turned to the first Sentinel. They raised their chin, the forehead and cheeks exposed. The All-Mother smiled again, then cut her palm with the blade. Solas could feel her pull on the Beyond as she entwined its energy with the magic in her blood. Then Mythal placed her bleeding hand on the Sentinel’s forehead and wove her power into their body.

And so the All-Mother went on to mark each elvhen with her vallaslin, gifting them with words of wisdom. When she was done, they stood before her like a small army graced with lines of white blood writing on their faces.

“In seven days, we will change the world forever,” she said and her voice echoed from the stone walls of the hall like the toll of a bell, “and when we are done, the People will be safe once more.”

* * *

Night had fallen when Solas finally returned to his chambers. 

After the ceremony in which Mythal had granted the Sentinels her protection, she had given him and the other servants a whole cascade of orders in preparation for the lifting of Arlathan. Solas himself had seen to it that all Sentinels were outfitted with armor to wear during the All-Mother’s ritual, while Faith, Diligence, and the other servants had prepared their new accommodations in the tower. After that, they all had been running errands to aid with the evacuation. Solas helped coordinate the efforts to extend the encampment outside the city to shelter all elvhen while the All-Mother severed the earthly ties of Arlathan. All the while, he hoped to catch a glimpse of Felani but the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen. She was undoubtedly busy helping June to make a few last-minute adjustments to the enchantments on the anchor stones now that they were set in place.

Still, he felt disappointed when she didn’t come to see him that night. When he lay down to rest, his heart pounded heavily in his chest and his mind raced despite his exhaustion. To calm his thoughts, he watched the soft streaks of moonlight wandering across the walls of his bed-chamber. The night would have been peaceful if not for the lack of music and laughter and the soft rippling of emotion usually caused by the thousands of people in the city. For the first time in centuries, he was truly alone. No, not alone. _ Lonely. _He had almost forgotten what that felt like. Since Geldauran and his brothers had taken him to Arlathan to learn the ways of the People, there had always been someone to keep him company. And he, in turn, had grown so accustomed to spending his life with the People that he had never cared to think about what it meant if they were gone.

He reminded himself of all the days he’d spent in Geldauran’s hall, caring for the injured there, and his time in the Vir Dirthara to further his understanding of magic. It was a mere collection of small moments, but together they gave greater meaning to his life. With that thought firmly in his head, he closed his eyes and let go of his feelings. Soon after, his mind slipped into dreamless sleep.

* * *

Six more days passed before Felani finally came to the tower to see him. 

Solas had just left Mythal after checking on her one last time before bed when a spirit of duty came to find him and inform him of her arrival.

“You have a visitor,” it told him. “She said that you have been waiting for her.”

Solas paused, regarding the spirit carefully. 

“Please bring her up to my chambers,” he said. “I’ll see her straight away.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Duty said and bowed ever so slightly before hurrying away. Solas stared at the door through which the spirit had vanished. After the first night waiting for Felani to come to him, Solas had tried not to think about it and had instead buried himself in his work. He hadn’t even dared to show up for his training with her to avoid any awkwardness between them. Instead, he had sent word to her that Mythal needed his help more urgently than ever. Now it was only a matter of moments before he saw her again. 

Only moments until …

He felt his heart jump into his throat and he hurried to the bathroom to clean his face and straighten his robes. When he was sure that he didn’t look too disheveled, he used his magic to activate the motes and fill his chambers with soft warm light.

Only a few seconds seemed to have passed when he heard Felani and Duty approaching. The blacksmith was chatting casually with the spirit, trying to make it laugh despite its sober nature. Solas inhaled deeply and cleared his mind of wistful thoughts, then went to open the door. 

Suddenly, his mouth was very dry.

Felani wore a silk robe that perfectly accentuated the sharp curves of her body. The fabric was deep red, interwoven with gold threads along the hems, and revealed more than it concealed. It would have left little room for imagination if it hadn’t been for the black embroidered coat that she had put on as well, held in place by a broad leather belt around her waist.

“Hello,” Solas said hoarsely. 

A smile tugged at her lips. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Duty. “If you could please bring us some refreshments, my friend. I would be in your debt.”

“Certainly,” the spirit replied. 

“Thank you.”

While Duty floated back down the stairs, Solas led Felani into his chambers. “Your taste in furnishing is much more austere than I expected,” she mused as she looked around the rooms, then stopped by one of the stained-glass windows in the main chamber. “The view is exceptional, though. I bet on a clear day you can see all the way to the ocean from here.”

Solas took a moment to regard Felani again. The silk robes weren’t the only thing that made her stunning. Her raven hair was pinned up in an intricate style and she had painted her face with just enough color to emphasize her best features. If she had been beautiful in her training suit, she was now absolutely breathtaking.

“It’s quite the view, indeed,” he said in a small voice.

Felani’s amber eyes gleamed when she turned to look at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” she said and secured a small strand of loose hair behind her ear, “but June had us work double-shifts. Some help for Daern’thal and his lot so the city won’t crumble once the All-Mother casts her spell. I didn’t even have the time to answer your letter.”

“It’s nothing,” Solas said with a dismissive gesture. “Please don’t worry about it.”

Felani let a moment of silence fall between them, then nodded towards the wall behind him. “You never mentioned that you’re a painter.”

Solas glanced over his shoulder at the mural he’d started painting about a year ago. The base colors were all applied and some of the details added, but he had never bothered to return to work once the earthquakes that threatened Arlathan had begun. The image showed the churning skies and the crystal towers that would one day be the landmarks of Arlathan he’d seen in the vision Mythal had shared with him. He’d already sketched the shapes of dragons circling the sky above the city.

Felani walked over to him, her gaze still fixed on the painting. 

“Elvhenan,” she whispered. “I’d almost forgotten what it looked like.”

The white lines of June’s vallaslin on her face shimmered like mother-of-pearl in the soft light of the motes. He’d always assumed that Felani was much older than him. Not just because of her skill with a blade, but for her close relationship with the Master of Crafts. Still, she had never talked about when or why she had come into June’s service, just like he’d never told her about his paintings. They still had so much to learn about each other despite the time they had spent together.

“I hope you get to finish it,” she said and reached out with one hand to trace the outline of a building. “It is quite beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Felani looked at him for a long moment before a smile spread across her face. “Aren’t you particularly charming tonight?” she remarked playfully.

“I only seek to speak the truth,” he said and clasped his hands behind his back.

He was almost relieved when Duty made itself known with a pulse of energy in the Beyond. He opened the door again and took a silverite plate from the spirit laden with a carafe of water, a bottle of wine, four crystal goblets, and a bowl of fresh fruits. He thanked the spirit for its help.

“Do you want me to wake you in the morning?” the spirit asked. “Or will you skip your training session again?”

Solas told Duty that he wouldn’t be needing its help, bid the spirit goodnight, and closed the door behind him. He set the plate on a low table among the chairs and sofas in the main chamber and began to pour drinks for both Felani and himself. 

When he looked up again, she had loosened the belt on her robes and had stripped off the black cloak. The fabric rustled softly when she tossed it over one of the chairs. 

Felani smiled, undoubtedly amused by Solas’s wide-eyed stare, then walked over to him to pluck a few grapes from the fruit bowl. She ate them one by one, watching him carefully as he handed her a goblet filled with ruby-red wine. 

Solas took his glass. “What are we drinking to?”

“I don’t know,” Felani said and tilted her head slightly. “How about unexpected pleasures?”

“Very well,” Solas replied and felt a knot tighten in his throat. “To unexpected pleasures.”

She raised her glass in a toast. Solas brought the goblet to his lips to take a sip but paused midway when Felani downed her drink in one long swig. She sighed, savoring the rich taste of the wine for a tiny moment, then put her goblet down. 

“That was splendid,” she said and wiped her lips with one hand. 

He was still trying to find the right words for a witty reply when she took his own goblet out of his hand and set it down on the table as well. “You won’t be needing that,” she told him and reached out to him. Before he knew it, he could feel her breath on his face and her arms around his shoulders. His heart leaped in his chest.

“We both know why I’m here,” she said softly, her lips brushing tenderly against his. “No need to act restrained anymore.”

Solas looked at her for a long moment and let one hand slip around her neck. Beneath his thumb, he could feel her pulse racing. He let his mind dip into the Beyond and sensed an excitement radiating off her that matched his own. It made every fiber in his body go tense with anticipation. 

“I agree,” he breathed.

Felani’s lips met his, warm and welcoming, and for a moment he only sensed the delicate movements of her mouth and the heat of her body. Solas let his hands settle on the small of her back and drew her closer. His heart began pounding heavily as he felt her stomach and breasts press against him through the fabric of her robe. Felani’s lips parted, urging him to do the same. He sighed softly when her tongue teased him and his mouth filled with the taste of fine wine, spiced honey and_ … her. _Just her.

After what felt like an eternity, Felani pulled back so they both could catch their breath.

“You have no idea how often I dreamed about this,” he said with his eyes half-closed and allowed his hands to wander along the lines of her hips and bottom. “I wanted you so much. I still do.”

Felani smiled, telling him without words that she indeed had a good idea about the nature of his dreams. She took his lower lip between her teeth and bit him gently. “We should get you out of these clothes, then.”

She fumbled with the belt around his waist for a moment, then unbuckled it and tossed it aside. Her fingers found the seams of his tunic and she pulled the fabric up and over his head. The night air was cool on his skin, urging him to hold her tight again. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her rich smell. The mixture intoxicated him, causing a sweet rush of excitement that made him grow hard. His erection pushed against the fabric of his pants.

She chuckled softly. 

“I wonder what happens if I do this?” she whispered and brushed her lips softly against the tender skin beneath his earlobe. Solas gasped as a wave of pleasure surged through him. “That feels good,” he breathed while she placed gentle kisses along his neck. “Better than good. I mean–”

“Shh.” She sealed his lips with a kiss. “We’re just getting started,”

Felani let her hand wander along his sternum and stomach all the way down to his abdomen. She looked at him, biting her lip, and pressed her hand against his pants. Solas sensed an air of joy about her when she found him hard and hot underneath her fingers. She toyed with the strings that laced his breeches, more anxiously than before, then pulled the seam open. Instinctively, he placed one hand on hers and guided her to his most delicate parts, letting out a soft groan when she finally touched him.

Felani pressed her mouth against his, hard and demanding this time, and began pleasuring him. Solas cupped her cheeks with both hands as he returned the kiss, then let his fingers slip into her thick hair. One strand came loose and fell freely over her shoulder. He tugged it gently as if this small gesture could help him regain a semblance of self-control.

She stopped pleasuring him and ushered him towards the archway that led to his bed-chamber. Solas didn’t resist. Her panting grew loud and heavy as she pushed down the fabric of his pants and helped him out of them at last. She shoved him gently onto the bed. Her tongue flicked over her lips while she looked at his naked body. 

Solas drew in sharp breaths when she began to tug at the ribbons on the back of her robes. The fabric slid from her shoulders ever so slowly, finally exposing her. He could see the muscles gracing her stomach, the lines on her strong arms and legs. Her chest was heaving as she walked over to the bed and leaned over him. She showered his neck with longing kisses and let her lips travel down his chest and stomach. 

Solas closed his eyes and pulled her up to his face again, his hands tracing every part of her. The smell of her skin filled his senses when he kissed her breasts. He tended to her nipples with his tongue, savoring the sensation. She pressed her face against his ear and moaned, a deep and feral sound that made him quiver.

“Wait,” she whispered and took his hand.

Carefully, she directed him to the soft spot between her legs and showed him how to tease her. Solas’s heart leaped when he felt the wet heat inside her. She pushed against his fingers, a slow wavelike movement, that sent ripples of pleasure through both of them. 

“Yes,” she gasped and closed her eyes. “Exactly like that.”

Solas watched her closely, not missing a nuance of her reaction. The way she furrowed her brows and tried to twist her lips into a half-smile to stifle her moans made him even harder every time she ground against him. He breathed her name, again and again, like a cadence that could lead to his salvation. He wanted to let go and hold back at the same time.

Felani seemed to sense his predicament. Or at least that was what he feared when she suddenly stopped. For a moment, he was afraid that she would end it right there, frustrated, disappointed. But instead, she grinned and kissed him. “I won’t run away,” she whispered against his lips. “Not until I’m done with you.” 

She straightened her back, now all but sitting on top of him. Solas watched her as she reached down and took him into one hand. She licked her lips delicately and settled down, taking him all the way in. He sucked in a sharp breath and shut his eyes. She was so tight and wet, he could barely take it.

“Look at me,” she said softly. 

Solas blinked. Her skin gleamed with warm light and sweat and waves of dark hair danced around her shoulders. Right at that moment, she was a living piece of art to him. 

Another smile tugged at her lips as she took his hands. Solas could feel her mind opening to the energy of the Beyond. She sighed as the magic filled her up like water poured into a cup.

Their eyes were still locked when she began to circle her hips, moving up and down slowly at the same time. Solas moaned deeply and grasped her hands tighter, their fingers now intertwined. “Don’t stop,” he begged breathlessly. “Please.”

Her movements were slow at first, then got faster as they both drifted closer to the edge of madness. The heat inside her seemed to spark a fire in Solas’s own body, setting him aflame from head to toe. Every clear thought had ceased to exist, wiped out by her smooth movements. There was only the sensation of unequaled pleasure that he never wanted to end.

She smiled and bowed forward, pinning his hands down next to both sides of his head. 

“Don’t hold back,” she said and bit his lower lip again. For a long moment, she moved on top of him with her lips hovering above his, enjoying the taste of their shared breath. Her gaze dared him to lose himself fully. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

Impulsively, he pushed himself up and grasped her by the hips at the same time. Felani let out a cry of surprise when he used his own weight to flip the two of them around in a single motion, pushing her onto the soft mattress. Solas leaned over her, gently stroking strands of black hair away from her face. She blinked, perplexed by his initiative, and he smiled because he had managed to catch her off-guard for once.

Solas dipped two fingers into her wetness, enjoying the pleasure his touch evoked in her. In response, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed against him. He guided himself back into her, eager to feel himself inside her again. His thrusts were hard and fast, and he buried his face in the small arch between Felani’s neck and shoulder. 

“Yes,” she breathed, her back arching to meet him. 

He moved faster and faster, the tension inside him swelling until there was nothing but an unbearable ecstasy. Solas moaned against Felani’s skin. And there it was, that delicate pain that wanted to overtake him. Unable to resist any longer, he gave in with a deep groan and let the tide of emotions carry him away.

He felt Felani‘s fingers stroking his hair and shoulders when he spilled himself inside her. For a moment, he forgot to move, to breathe. Then the tension finally left his body and only peace remained, deep and rich and all-embracing. 

She pulled him into a tight hug and together they listened to the sound of their thundering hearts and gasping breaths.

After a long while, he pulled away and lay down next to her. She rolled onto one side, her legs still tangled with his. Solas put one arm around her, stroking her back while he traced the lines of her face with his lips.

“Well, that was something,” she said teasingly. “Was it worth the wait?”

Solas chuckled languidly. “Yes. Although I hope I wasn’t being too selfish in the end.”

“Not at all,” she said, laughing. “Besides, feeling you come made this very worthwhile. Your emotions cause very strong reflections in the Beyond, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said and closed his eyes for a moment to listen to the slowing thrum of his heartbeat. 

“I must admit,” she murmured after a moment of consensual silence, “you were not what I expected.”

He blinked at her. “How so?”

She propped her head on one hand and looked at him. Her cheeks were still flushed from the heat of their love-making, but there was an earnestness in her eyes Solas had not seen before.

“When I first met you I thought you were nothing but a terrible loudmouth,” she said. “A good-looking one, sure, but still a loudmouth. I thought I was being clever, tempting you. Just another challenge. I was never good at resisting those.”

Solas frowned, unsure what to say. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked cautiously.

“I just want you to know that all of this comes with no obligations,” she said and laid a hand on his stomach. “We’re just having fun. No strings attached.“

“I wasn’t going to ask for your hand in marriage if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Solas said and tried to make it sound like a joke.

Felani sighed heavily and rolled away from him, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

“What is it that troubles you so much?” he asked. 

She drew in long breaths, choosing her words carefully before she spoke again.

“I was Ambition once,” she said, her voice thick with melancholy, “until June brought me before the All-Father. Elgar’nan told me that I had been drawn to this world by his son’s persistence to create new marvels and that my abilities would bring glory to the People. He also warned me that I would carry a deep longing to prove myself and that life would be harder once I was one of the elvhen. I only pretended to listen. I was too eager to learn from June. I wanted to be able to reshape the world as he did. But when I awoke after my Passage, I finally realized what the All-Father meant.”

“I see,” Solas muttered and thought back to his first encounter with Felani. She had told him then that she was different, but he hadn’t cared to think about what she’d meant by that. Now he understood that her focus and determination were the result of her struggle to reign in her own nature. 

She gave him a sardonic smile. “Sometimes I envy the other smiths. They are content with their creations, taking joy in helping. But when the work is done, they go home to their loved ones. But I… Sometimes I feel like I can’t help myself. I lie awake at night, my head spinning with ideas. Everything that feels old bores me. I don’t want to be bound apart from the bond that I share with June. I don’t want to be stuck in the same place, doing the same things, over and over again. All I want is to see what I can do if I push myself hard enough.”

“And that is why you truly offered to train me,” Solas concluded. “You tried to seduce me only to see if you could.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. You are a good man and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Solas stared at her for a long moment.

“I thank you for your honesty,” he said. 

“That’s the least I can do,” she said and brushed away the tears that had begun to gather in the corners of her eyes. “Sweet skies, I’m such a fool sometimes.”

“No,” Solas said and pulled her closer again, forcing her to look at him. “I’ve seen fools and you’re not one. Because despite your flaws, you own up to them. And as you said, I’m not without failings, too. It would be cruel of me to uphold you to a standard that I can’t live up to myself.”

“You’re too kind, Solas.”

“And you are too hard on yourself.”

She huffed a sad laugh. “Is that truly what you think?”

“Your motives to spend time with me might not have been entirely pure or selfless,” he said, “but they hardly matter given that they are no longer important to you. Why else would you tell me about them?”

“True,” she said.

“I’d like us to be friends,” Solas said and pressed his forehead against hers, “and lovers, occasionally, if that is what you want. I’d rather have it this way then see you leave forever because you feel stuck.”

She slipped one hand around his neck, a shy smile on her lips. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then there’s nothing left to say,” he said and kissed her once more.

Solas could feel her relief washing over him like a warm wave in the Beyond when she gave in and pressed against him.

They spent the next hour stroking and kissing and simply enjoying each other's company. After a while, Solas's skin tingled where she touched him and his heart began pounding again. He embraced her, a familiar heat welling up in him, and allowed her to feel his renewed arousal.

“And here I was, thinking I had expertly quenched your desire,” she said jokingly.

“I admit you are rather proficient at this,” he muttered and played with a strand of her hair. “But expertly? We have to see about that.”

“You’re terrible!” She pinched his side, forcing a chuckle out of him, then kissed him deeply. “Well, if you’re up for the challenge, we could put that talented tongue of yours to good use. I’m curious to see what it’s capable of.”

“As you would have it,” he said with a smile and leaned in for another kiss.

* * *

Felani left just before sunrise to be back at the camp with June and the other smiths before the ritual began. Solas rose with her to kiss her good-bye, then began readying himself for the great day.

He put on a set of light armor not unlike the outfits that had been prepared for the Sentinels. The armor only served a ceremonial purpose as Solas was merely responsible for coordinating the Sentinels’ efforts during the spell, but thanks to his training with Felani, he didn’t feel like he was putting on a costume. The golden plates shimmering in the morning sun seemed appropriate for such an important day.

When he entered Mythal’s chambers, the All-Mother was surrounded by three servants who helped her into her own set of armor. Hers was much heavier than his, with pauldrons in the shape of dragon wings and thick plates covering most of her body. One of the servants willed the All-Mothers white hair into a cascade of braids, entwined them and magically fixed them on the top of Mythal’s head. 

“That’ll be all,” Mythal said once she was fully dressed. “Now leave the city and see to the needs of the people in the camp.”

The servants bowed and went to do the All-Mother’s bidding. 

Mythal flashed a smile at Solas’s reflection in the mirror while she regarded herself one last time. “How do I look?”

“Formidable,” he said. “There’s no better word for it.”

“Hm,” she mused and tested the ties on her gloves. Then she turned to Solas. “How do you feel?”

“How _ I _feel?” he asked, perplexed. “My feelings are of no importance on a day such as this, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Such is the burden of being a mother,” she said and made a vague gesture.

“You are mother to all elvhen,” he said, “and they need your care and attention more urgently than I do right now.”

Mythal sighed heavily. “I assume you are correct.”

Solas smiled at her, surprised that she would consider something so personal despite the difficulties she was about to face. It made him wonder if last night’s events had changed him in a way that he couldn’t deduce. The world didn’t seem different. The sun still rose in the East and the skies were still blue, but deep down he felt liberated as if he'd tapped into a power that he’d been unaware of. He would stand beside Mythal with an open heart while she cast her spell.

Mythal huffed and straightened her shoulders. With a grim expression on her face, she walked over to a table where one of the servants had placed a cushion. On it lay an orb of considerable size, its surface graced with curved lines. The artifact gave off a pale light, flickering blue and green and yellow as it drew energy from the Beyond. _ A focus, _that was what she had called it when she had shown him the schematics for the artifact. Crafted by her own hand, the orb was perfectly attuned to her magic and would help her channel power into her spell.

“Let’s go,” Mythal said and took the orb in both hands.

The Sentinels awaited the All-Mother in the atrium of the tower along with Faith, Duty, and many more servants who had come to escort her on a predetermined route to the center of Arlathan. At the Place of Love, where she and Elgar’nan had agreed to Solas’s proposal to raise the city, a crowd had gathered. Among the spirits and elvhen were Sylaise, Anaris, Falon’Din, and June with their own servants. Even Daern’thal who liked to keep to himself had come to wish Mythal luck. 

As if queued to remind the People of the importance of the All-Mother’s ritual, the ground trembled beneath their feet.

“We mustn’t lose any more time,” she said.

The Sentinels invoked Mythal’s name, then scattered to take their posts by the anchor stones. Only Daern’thal and June along with their entourage remained in the city to fuel the runes that stabilized the buildings. Solas caught a glimpse of Felani who was clad in ceremonial armor like he was and who carried a two-handed blade on her back in honor of this day. They smiled at each other before he followed the Sentinels out of the city. Accompanied by Faith, he made sure all of them had taken their right place and were ready to offer Mythal their aid. 

A new eruption shook the ground, but it did no harm. The People had left the city, apart from the All-Mother and those who had agreed to secure the buildings. When the earthquake faded, Solas lifted his gaze. A dark spot appeared in the heavens, like a bird circling, but when he tapped into the power of the Beyond, he could feel Mythal’s presence. The All-Mother had shifted partly into her dragon form and her wings soaked up the sunlight.

The blood writing on his face tingled.

_ Be ready, _ he heard her whisper.

Solas steeled himself and squinted, not daring to look away while Mythal roamed the sky above Arlathan. 

And then it began. 

A pulse of energy coming down from the heavens, manifesting as a stream of green light as she connected her own power with the magic of the Beyond. It danced around Mythal like ribbons, then separated and tied the All-Mother’s focus to the anchor stones that surrounded the city. 

The wind picked up and drew the breath from Solas’s lungs as it pooled around the stones. The Sentinels recognized the signal and began pouring energy into the anchors themselves. Each one came alive with magic that captured the gathering storm. Bound into obedience, the power seeped into the Earth itself. A thundering crack followed and Solas felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He kneeled down, both hands flat on the ground, and let his mind wander deeper into the Beyond. For a moment, the Song that connected all of creation rang loud in his ears like a crescendo that drowned out every other sound. Then he opened his heart and mind to allow Mythal to draw from his power.

Bit by bit, Arlathan rose into the air. A small movement at first, barely noticeable from a distance. But as Mythal and her Sentinels continued to pour themselves to fuel the levitation spell, the foundations of the city detached from the Earth and its rivers became waterfalls. When she heard the churning roar of the waters, Mythal divided her attention to make the rivers pour into the Beyond as she had intended, where they would flow to refill the cistern beneath the city. 

Solas watched in awe while Arlathan was secured in the sky. Many others, spirits and elvhen, had come from the camp and had begun offering their magic to assist the All-Mother. For a moment, they were all of one mind, and Solas felt the same joy and fulfillment he had sensed the day Mythal had shown him her vision of Elvhenan. That was what he had been living for. The People, united for a common cause: the well-being of all.

The sun was high in the sky when Solas finally felt Mythal’s pull on his magic disperse. Arlathan, floating on a spearlike foundation, hung in the sky. Thin clouds danced around the buildings and obscured the top of the All-Mother’s tower. 

_ We did it, _ he thought with tears in his eyes. _ We really did it. _

He blinked when another flash of green light emitted from above. Around him, the gathered people gasped, some protecting their eyes with their hands. When the light faded, the streams of light that had connected Mythal’s focus with the anchor stones had disappeared. Instead, the Sentinels fueled the stones with magic directly, beginning their long watch over the city of Arlathan. 

The People cheered and jubilated when Mythal finally came down to be with them. In her armor and with her dragon wings unfolded, she looked like a goddess descending from another world. Her face was red and sweat had gathered above her brow, but apart from that, she seemed fine. Solas could feel her pride and confidence in the Beyond. She smiled broadly and bathed in the affection of her brethren.

“What is that?”

A single voice, loud and bewildered, disrupted the cheering around. Solas turned to see where it came from. 

Some elvhen had wandered off to the edge of the Earth where the city had been detached and stared into the abyss. Alarmed, Mythal went to meet them. Solas followed on her heels. The cliffs where the All-Mother’s spell had severed the earthly ties of Arlathan was steep. Beyond it lay a chasm of sharp and rocky edges and whispering waters that seemed to reach to the center of the Earth. But that was not all. Deep down there were streaks of blue light that pervaded the stone like veins and Solas could hear the Song flow through them.

“What is that?” he heard someone ask again, fearful this time.

Mythal’s brows furrowed. 

“Have you seen this before?” Solas asked her in a low voice to avoid being overheard.

“No, I–”

Her words were cut off by a deep groaning sound that erupted from the deep. Solas stumbled, barely able to stay on his feet. Even Mythal took a step back. When the silence returned, they all stared into the abyss once more. Among the glowing veins, tiny things began to move and crawl and claw their way up to the surface.

Mythal turned to her brethren with a dark expression on her face.

_ “Get ready!” _

Solas was disturbed by the sharpness in her voice. “What is happening?”

“The Children of the Stone,” Mythal said grimly. “I should have known.”

“What?” He gaped at her in horror. “How?”

Mythal didn’t answer.

“I need a weapon,” she shouted and a few elvhen ran to fetch the Sun Soldiers from the camp. Imras himself, clad in armor and wielding a warhammer, put a silverite sword in her hands while his recruits and comrades gave out weapons to every able-bodied elvhen they could find. They handed Solas a bloodstone blade embellished with fire enchantments. He thought of all the training sessions with Felani. “You can do this,” he told himself.

Solas heard stones falling as the enemy made its way to the surface. 

“Stay with me,” Mythal ordered him before she turned to the Sun Soldiers and gave orders for their formations. 

She positioned the archers along the cliffs and had them nock their arrows all at once. Those gifted in shapeshifting she ordered to transform in whatever bestial form they preferred. “As long as it has a sharp beak, paws or claws to fight with,” she said. The rest was grouped in smaller companies to guard the camp and those unable to join the fray.

June and Daern’thal came down from Arlathan in the form of the Divine, alarmed by the thundering echoes that erupted from the Earth. They joined the shapeshifters, readying themselves to let fire rain down on anything that would emerge from the deep. Sylaise, Falon’Din, and Anaris joined the People to strike down their enemies. The archers had already begun shooting arrows at the moving things in the abyss, their arrows making sharp hissing sounds as they soared through the air.

Solas felt a knot tighten in his throat. This was supposed to be a day of triumph, the end to suffering and uncertainty. Now he found himself shaken, blood rushing in his ears. 

He stood by Mythal’s side when the first creature crawled over the edge. A Child of the Stone clad in armor that shone like the blue veins in their ground. Solas swallowed hard as more and more of the creature’s brethren climbed over the cliffs. They made grunting sounds that could be mistaken for a language, but there was no way to know what they meant. 

Mythal unsheathed her blade, spread her wings and sent a blast of air towards the Stonechildren that made dozens of them tumble backwards into the abyss. But when the creatures kept crawling over the edge, she raised the sword high above her head.

“ATTACK!”

On Mythal’s command, fire and lightning rained from the sky as the elvhen fought back their enemies. They did all they could to hold the cliffs and prevent the Children of the Stone from walking the Earth. But no matter how many of them were killed, there seemed to be no end to them. It didn’t take long before the archers had already emptied their quivers and had to draw their blades, slashing and hacking at the Stonechildren that made it over the edge. 

Solas relied on his magic to repel the creatures that dared to come near the All-Mother. He showered them with shards of ice and encased them in walls of cold to stop their advance. Those who escaped his spells, he struck down with his blade while the sickening stench of blood filled his nostrils.

Mythal raised her voice, calling for a retreat when it was clear that they could not repel the onslaught.

The elvhen forces scrambled in an attempt to regroup further away from the cliffs. Solas followed them, climbing over corpses of Stonechildren and elvhen alike. Catching only glimpses of the mutilated bodies on the ground made his stomach turn. With a foul taste in his mouth, he staggered forward. The All-Mother conjured fire and darkness and struck out with her blade. Where she walked, the Children of the Stone cried out in pain and perished forever. Solas grasped the hilt of his sword tighter and followed her lead. 

Soon, he found himself surrounded by enemies advancing further inland. It was then that he noticed that the Stonechildren didn’t use magic of their own, although the Song echoed inside them. They relied purely on their weapons and pure superiority of their numbers to drive the People back. But there was more to it than that. They moved in clear patterns, guided by the Song inside them. Through it, they fought like a single entity that knew nothing but the desire to survive.

Solas brought his blade down on a creature that threatened him with an axe. Shock and terror pulsed through him, clearing him of conscious thought. He acted instinctively, trusting his magic and what Felani had taught him to save his life.

That was when something hit his back and passed clean through him. Thrown off balance by the blow, Solas stumbled and fell to his knees. The sword slipped from his grasp and landed a few feet away from him on the ground. His vision blurred, a sharp pain surging through him. He pressed a trembling hand against his stomach. When it came off bloody, a new wave of horror clawed at his insides. 

Solas lifted his gaze, looking for the All-Mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he witnessed projectiles peppering a fellow elvhen trying to join with the rest of the Sun Soldiers. Blood sprayed into every direction shortly before the soldier fell to the ground, defeated, lifeless. Solas rolled around just in time to evade a salve himself, feeling the projectiles hitting the troubled ground where he had kneeled. A moment later, he glimpsed a Child of the Stone carrying a cylindrical contraption. Flashes of light erupted from the weapon when the creature peppered the air with more fire.

He tried to regain his footing, crouching towards his blade. The pain slowed him down and blurred his vision as he crawled forward. Sweat streamed down his temples and the tang of blood filled his mouth. His hands were shaking when he finally reached out and felt the sword hilt underneath his fingers. With a grim smile, he pulled the blade toward him. 

Behind him, a Child of the Stone growled. The creature was closer than he’d hoped. Solas braced himself and rolled onto his back, his sword at the ready. His opponent towered over him with glowing eyes and a broadaxe in both hands. Solas drew from the Beyond to gather the air around him and weave it into a blast to push the creature back, but the pain made it harder to focus. He felt his own blood trickling down his stomach and his inside burned like fire.

Solas saw the eyes of the creature flare behind the visor of its helmet. And before he could finish his spell, the Child of the Stone lifted its axe and brought it down on the blade in Solas’s hand. Too weak to hold up against his enemy, his arm was pushed to the ground and the blade shattered. The creature put one booted foot on his hand, crushing his fingers in the process. Solas cried out and lost control over his magic as more pain surged through him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the axe glinting in the sunlight. Then the sharp edge came down again, cutting through his arm like a sickle through grain.

An eerie cold took hold of Solas as he felt the blood leaving his body. He winced and pressed his remaining hand against his forearm, trying to regain his self-control. The Child of the Stone snarled at him, waiting for him to defend himself, but when he stayed down, it stepped over him as if nothing had happened and went on to cut down more of the elvhen.

Solas’s mind raced. Willing himself to focus, he stretched out with his mind to touch the magic that coursed in his blood. He felt the echo of the Song, the low symphony that connected him with the Beyond. Drawing from its inextinguishable power, he thought of Geldauran and what the healer had taught him. 

_ We might craft and change our form but our essence is eternal. _

With ragged breaths, Solas willed his magic to close the wound on his arm. It was delicate work and the spell was less accurate than he’d hoped, so he was only able to slow down the bleeding, not stop it.

His spell dispersed when exhaustion claimed him. He lay down, sweating and shaking as he was. The noise of battle had been all but drowned by the low thrum of blood rushing in his ears. He looked at the sky and found Arlathan still intact, untouched by the slaughter below. June was still circling the sky in the form of a dragon. Fire erupted somewhere to Solas’s right and flashes of lightning stung in his eyes. He rolled to one side, finding that more of his people had fallen. 

“He’s here!” 

A shout, not far off. Then the rustling of robes and a hand that reached for him. 

“Look at me,” Solas heard a man say and lifted his gaze. 

Falon’Din bent over him to assess his wounds. Solas felt his cold fingers grasping at him. His pale skin shimmered like bone in the harsh sunlight and his purple eyes were filled with grim determination. “Don’t fall asleep,” he said coolly and stretched out one hand. Solas felt him redirecting the ambient magic of the Beyond towards them and cast it over them like a cloak. As a result, Solas felt a kernel of warmth return to his body and the shivering slowly subsided. 

Thunder split the air. Falon’Din turned to observe the cliffs from which the Children of the Stone had emerged, as did Solas. Suddenly it seemed like a large shadow had been cast to cover the sun. It took Solas a moment to recognize the giant creature that hurled itself over the edge of the cliffs. Made of solid stone and covered in blue veins, it was larger than any building. Blazing blue eyes gazed upon the battlefield and feet as large as ponds crushed the elvhen and their enemies alike. The Earth shook and Solas felt the creature’s rumbling in his guts. 

Falon’Din rose to his feet and called on the Beyond to cast a shroud of black and purple around him to shield himself. To his right, another flash of light erupted and an angry battle cry rose from the fighting crowd. With fluttering eyes, Solas turned to look where it came from.

The last thing he saw was Mythal, cloaked in flame, running to meet the Titan with her sword raised high. Then the darkness swallowed him


	11. Mother's Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Solas's departure is approaching fast. Mythal's high keeper comes to Arlathan to grant a blessing. Felani and Solas meet one last time.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

“The All-Mother has received your message, Solas, but I’m afraid she is currently unable to respond. Her servants in the palace tell me that she has secluded herself in her private chambers to gather her strength.” 

Mythal’s high keeper set aside her cup of tea and crossed her legs, her hands resting on top of her knees. Solas regarded Shivanas intently, trying to determine how much she knew about the content of the letter he had sent to the All-Mother shortly after his return from the Sonallium. Her aura was as calm as he’d ever seen it and she wasn’t one for duplicity. If she didn’t want to talk about Solas’s message, she most likely had no idea why he had written to Mythal in the first place.

Solas cleared his throat and let his gaze wander around the room. The high keeper’s chambers were located just below the top level of Mythal’s tower. Her accommodations were ornate to the point of excess, with gilded mosaics and gold leaf ornaments decking every wall and column. Not a single item seemed in disarray. Colorful vines had been cultivated to grow along the windows and the marble tiles on the floor had been polished to perfection. Even the cushions on the sofa on which Shivanas sat had been arranged in a specific pattern that seemed particularly inviting and pleasing to look at. It was the kind of pedantry that was to be expected from a former spirit of duty.

“You will be pleased to know that the All-Mother has not abandoned you, though,” Shivanas continued. “She asked me to perform the Rite of Safe Travels personally before you depart from Arlathan.”

Solas leaned back in his chair. The day on which he would need to leave Arlathan was approaching quickly. In fact, he had spent the last three days trying to figure out a way to track down the Black Dread. It was then that Shivanas had sent Diligence to invite him to her chambers. 

He couldn’t recall when he had last spoken to her, let alone in private. Since she had taken on her role as high keeper and Mythal had officially promoted Solas to advisor, their respective duties had kept them apart. But even before that, when they had both served the All-Mother, Mythal had given them different tasks, taking into account their personalities and talents, so that Solas and Shivanas barely met. On the rare occasion that they had both stood in attendance during an Arlathvhen or a ball or a salon, Solas had learned enough about the other woman to know that her faith in Mythal was near unshakable. Her faith in the People, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

“I never believed Mythal abandoned me,” he retorted stiffly. “Although I’m surprised that she sent you and not Mirthavhen to perform the rites. Is it not their duty as high priest to oversee such rituals? Or has that changed, too, while I was away?”

“Mirthavhen is needed in the temple in Ethen’an,” Shivanas said, her lips curling slowly. “Many of our brethren have come to the sanctuary seeking comfort and reassurance. The recent hostilities between Falon’Din and Elgar’nan had them frightened. Only the All-Mother’s high priest has the skill to dispel their unrest.”

Solas didn’t doubt that. He had witnessed the trouble the two gods had caused with their quarreling first hand while he wandered the wilds. Even in the Heartlands where the All-Mother’s influence was strongest and the People benefited directly from her strength and wisdom, the possibility of war had frightened both spirits and elvhen. There were many who still remembered the war against the Children of the Stone and what it had cost the People to stand victorious. They kept the memory of that struggle alive with tales and songs that struck fear in the hearts of the Waking-born who had never seen such bloodshed.

“I’m sure the ritual will give the People hope,” he assured Shivanas, holding a saucer with a cup of tea in his hand. The heavy blend of herbs and spices had gone cold without him having taken a single sip. Even the thought of drinking the tea made his stomach churn. It reminded him too much of the concoction Falon’Din and his disciples mixed for those who sought to enter the Eternal Dream. He would never understand how people could enjoy anything that reminded him of the tang of death.

“I love the face you make when someone offers you tea,” Felani had said to him only a few days back, and the memory brought a smile to his lips. Even in the face of peril there were moments that he couldn’t help but treasure. The joy in her eyes, her challenging gaze, never ceased to amaze him. Both reminded him of brighter days spent with playful banter and tender kisses. But then he remembered the fearful expression on her face when he had left the Sonallium and his smile vanished. Seeing his old friend frightened and ready to abandon a life she had put a lot of strength and effort into building made him angry. 

_ I will find a way to keep you safe, _ he thought. _ I will keep us all safe, if I can. _

“What’s wrong?” Shivanas asked. Her expression was sober but Solas didn’t miss the faint annoyance in her gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and cleared his throat again. “There is much on my mind.”

“I can imagine,” Shivanas said and straightened her robes. “Without the All-Mother’s guidance, it is up to you to resolve this crisis. The responsibility must be a considerable burden.” 

“Mythal and I have always given advice to_ each other _,” Solas corrected her. “That is why she had called on me as a spirit. That is why I stayed as her servant.”

“And yet you left her side when it suited you,” Shivanas said.

Solas held his breath for a long moment. The high keeper was anything, if not upright. He had to admire that about her. Yet, he felt a wave of anger rise in him. He swallowed and cooled the flare of heat in his guts so it couldn’t get to his head.

“From your curt tone I take it you disapprove,” he said as calmly as possible.

Her brows knit into a furrow.

“It is not my place to disapprove,” she remarked. “The All-Mother allowed you to go as a reward for your help in bringing the Forgotten Ones to justice. I do not dare to second-guess her decisions.”

“A pity,” Solas replied. “To second-guess is a quality she has always valued in those who pledged themselves to her cause.”

“She might have valued _ your _ assessments,” Shivanas said, eyes squinting. “My duty is to listen to the People and bring all matters before the All-Mother that require her attention. And there are many matters, indeed. A thousand wrongs that need to be set right. You know this as well as I do.”

“True. The People have seen much suffering and sadness as of late.”

“Then why didn’t you come to Arlathan sooner?” Shivanas asked. “You must have heard about the aggressions between Elgar’nan and Falon’Din. If they hadn’t listened to the All-Mother, we might be at war once more.”

“I had faith in Mythal,” Solas remarked. “Besides, what should I have done about this? No, my talents were best used elsewhere. Not all of the People can make the long journey to the temples to receive guidance from their gods.”

“So I’ve heard.” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “How lucky that you were there to investigate the events surrounding the Black Dread when no one in Arlathan was even aware of its existence.”

The smile Solas flashed at her felt hollow. 

“It’s true, I have learned more about the Black Dread than anyone else. That is why I know that the creature poses a far greater threat than the People want to believe. Even the Evanuris seem to underestimate its power.” 

Solas let his gaze roam across the room, giving his rising anger a few moments to subside again. In a more casual tone, he continued, “I can’t help but wonder, though. Did Andruil’s high keeper mention the attacks on the Keeper’s Council before I was summoned to speak before the Evanuris? Did she say anything useful about the creature?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Of course,” Solas muttered. “And you have never surmised any oddities about her behaviour? Not even once?”

Shivanas sighed deeply. 

“I know you enjoy scheming, Solas, subtle machinations,” she said with a wavy gesture, “but I, for one, do not. Secondly, what the other high keeper’s do and how they choose to perform their duties is not my concern. I serve the All-Mother and those who are bound to her by virtue of our shared blood. That is all.”

“Such complacency seems to be a common theme these days,” Solas retorted. “When did we start to value our personal comfort more than our virtues, I wonder.”

“You tell me,” Shivanas shot back. 

Solas huffed a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Oh, how I wish that was true,” she replied and mustered him intently. “But I’ve known you long enough to know that you actually enjoy breaking through someone’s reserve. That is why I know not to engage in a heated debate with you.”

“This debate is far from heated, I can assure you,” Solas replied.

Shivanas raised both eyebrows at that, glaring.

Solas flashed another smile at her, this one sardonic and bitter. “I guess our business is concluded, then.”

“It is,” Shivanas agreed. “I will let you know when I am ready to perform the ritual.”

“Very well.” Solas stood and set the cup and saucer down on a side table, the tea still untouched. “Until then.”

Shivanas nodded and watched him carefully as he left her chambers. 

Back in his own quarters, Solas took a moment to gather his thoughts. If what Shivanas said was true – and he had no reason to suspect otherwise – Mythal had either chosen not to respond to his message or was in such poor health that she was incapable of addressing his letter. His only choice was to trust in her that she would see the urgency of the matter, freeing Felani from the bond she shared with June. He hoped his words would sway her to take action even without his knowledge.

_ She has never let me down, _ he reminded himself. _ All it takes is a little more faith. _

When Shivanas had invited him over, he had hoped she would share any news of All-Mother’s plans for the Black Dread. Sadly, it seemed like the All-Mother had chosen not to share any information with her high keeper. None that went beyond the duty of performing the Rite of Safe Travels anyway. Shivanas was right about the effect the ritual would have on those bound to Mythal, though. In granting Solas her blessing, the faith of her followers in her guidance would be strengthened, renewed.

But what was more important were Shivanas’s news on Andruil’s high keeper. From what he could tell, it seemed like the woman had not been befallen by the same corruption as the Great Huntress herself. That could mean that she had been sworn to secrecy or that Andruil had chosen not to tell her high keeper about her hunt for the Black Dread. And after millennia at Mythal’s side, Solas was almost certain that the latter was more likely. Andruil was too bold and proud for machinations. Secrecy was the domain of Dirthamen and Falon’Din. So whatever power the Black Dread possessed, Andruil did not want to share information on it with anyone, not even her own servants. It was a somewhat calming thought. It meant that besides Andruil and Dirthamen, none of the other Evanuris had thought to harness the creature’s power for their own gain. Not yet, at any rate.

Now he only needed to find out what the Black Dread had done to the Great Huntress – and how he could stop the creature from doing the same to him.

* * *

Felani delivered the armor just in time for Solas’s departure. She arrived at the All-Mother’s tower in the early hours of the morning when the hustle and bustle of Arlathan had died down to a low rhythmic hum. Diligence went to wake Solas and tell him about her arrival, but found him already wide awake. Contemplating the imminent encounter with the Black Dread, Solas hadn’t been able to sleep much anyway. And so he readied himself and waited for his old friend to meet him in his quarters.

Soon after, Felani came through the eluvian. She was accompanied by two young men wearing June’s vallaslin. Smiths in training, as Solas assumed, possibly Waking-born. Their aura had the same uncontrolled energy that surrounded many young elvhen that have been born with a physical body. And their admiration for Felani was palpable. Not only in their presence in the Beyond but also in the adoring glances they cast at her.

The two men carried a wooden crate between them, while Felani held a long object wrapped in cloth. Solas, clad in a plain tunic and leggings, stood in the archway that led to his bed chamber and watched silently while Felani told the men where to put the crate down.

“Return to the Crossroads at once,” she said and regarded them intently. “If the caravan with the supplies for the smithy leaves before I can join you, do not wait for me.”

“Of course, Elder.”

Felani nodded.

“Goodbye, my friends. And safe journeys.”

The men returned her words with a low bow, then bid their goodbyes to Solas and backed away through the eluvian. Light rippled across the mirror’s surface as they vanished.

“I am glad you could make it,” Solas said after a moment of silence and gave Felani a soft smile. She still wore one arm in a sling and her eyes were shadowed from a considerable lack of sleep.

She blinked at him as if his words had ripped her from a daydream.

“Yes,” she said absentmindedly. “Of course”

“Can I get you something?” Solas asked. “Food? Refreshments?” 

“No,” she retorted, raising a hand. “Just come here and let me help you put the armor on.”

“Very well.” Solas walked over to her. Felani seemed tenser than when he’d left her four days ago and he was wise enough not to urge her into pleasantries. So he simply watched as she loosened the sling around her neck and stretched her arm. She sighed, then opened the crate and revealed the armor she had crafted for him.

The armor had a dark-greyish tint and was coated with a matt black paint on the breastplate, gauntlets, and pauldrons. It looked very much like the armor he had seen on Andruil, despite the fact that it had been adjusted to be a better fit to his broad shoulders and long legs. And, of course, there was no red light glistening beneath the metal’s surface.

“Lucky for you I still had notes with your measurements,” she said. “There shouldn’t be a need for adjustments.”

Felani stayed silent while she got to work, dressing Solas in a layer of chainmail before putting all the pieces of the armor into place. And he let her do her work, keeping any clever remark to himself. Instead, he tried to get used to the weight of the armor as Felani applied more and more pieces of the set. For the first time since the Evanuris had tasked him with destroying the Black Dread, he truly felt the burden that had been placed on his shoulders.

Lastly, Felani helped him into the gauntlets, then stepped back and took a moment to look at him. The armor was a tight fit on his lower body, granting him excellent freedom of movement, while his upper body was draped with layers of thick metal that no arrow or blade would be able to penetrate. The large wing-like pauldrons put emphasis on his shoulders and made him seem stronger and sturdier than he actually was.

“You look… _ changed_,” she declared, surprise showing in her eyes.

A soft smile tugged at Solas’s lips as memories of mornings spent sparring with Felani crossed his mind. 

“You have seen me in armor before,” he said, mildly amused.

“Sure, but not like that.” Felani let out a long breath and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just intimidated.”

Solas laughed. “I would be inclined to believe that if it were actually true.”

She stared at him for a moment. Solas raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to hit him with a witty comeback, but instead, Felani drew herself upright and turned to unwrap the long object she had dropped on one of the couches. Her hands worked quickly as she untied the cords that held the cloth around it in place. A moment later, a sword complete with its scabbard emerged. Felani took a moment to inspect her own work, unsheathing the sword by a hand’s width. It was enough for Solas to glimpse the intricate elvhen writing she had ingrained on the blade, glowing a dusty blue.

“It’s not my finest work, considering that I barely had enough time to finish the armor,” Felani explained as she returned to Solas, “but it will come in handy.”

“I’m certain you did your best,” he said. “You always do.”

“You still know how to use one?” she asked.

“I never truly mastered fighting with a blade, as you well know,” he said reluctantly, “but I think I can handle it. Luckily, I had a fine instructor. One of the best.”

That finally brought a smile to her lips. A familiar warmth settled in his guts when he saw it. That was the woman he knew. The woman he‘d come to care for. The woman who had helped him to turn his eagerness and blind passion into a useful tool, even if that had not been her initial intention at the time. And now she had defied her master and risked her life to save his. He owed her so much and he had no idea how to make up for such an immense debt.

He squeezed her hands gently when she strapped the sword to the belt around his waist. Felani paused, avoiding his inquisitive gaze.

Solas opened his mind to the Beyond. The magic of the skies flowed freely through him, allowing his emotions to carry over into the realm of spirits, where Felani would be able to sense them.

“Thank you,” he said quietly because there were no words to suffice how grateful he truly was. For her friendship, her bravery. For everything she had done for him.

Felani carefully withdrew one hand from his grasp and brought it up to his neck. Solas let her draw him closer, their faces only an inch apart. Then her lips brushed against his, not longing, but calm and comforting, and Solas returned her kiss with gentle kindness.

When Felani let go again he couldn’t help but smile at her.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Good luck, I guess,” she said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I… _ we _have almost lost you once already. I’d rather that not happen again.”

Solas swallowed, reminded of the long days in the Halls of Healing after the raising of Arlathan. After he had awoken from whatever trance Falon’Din had trapped him in, he only remembered fragments of the battle. Flashes of light, a searing pain in his arm, the warmth of his blood leaving his body. Most of what he knew, Mythal had shared with him while he regrew his arm. At times, he'd spent weeks sleeping while his body regenerated. Weeks in which he hadn’t been able to help Mythal or the People at all. He had felt like a burden to everyone around him and he had hated every moment of it. His only comfort had been the spirits who had joined him in his dreams and had helped him pass the time. And Felani, of course. She had come to visit him in the Beyond whenever she could, despite the many obligations she had towards the Master of Crafts. Her friendship had made his recovery a lot less painful than it could have been.

Another thing he owed her for.

“I will try my best to return in one piece,” he promised and pulled her into an embrace.

Their mouths met again and for a moment Solas allowed himself to forget the terrible danger he was about to face. He stretched out with his thoughts and felt her presence sending delicate ripples through the Beyond. There was a sadness in her that made his heart ache, and beneath it, a deep affection that had been rekindled when he had come to see her at the Sonallium.

Solas hugged her tightly, deepening the kiss. His tongue reached for hers, dancing around it slowly, tenderly. Felani sighed against his lips, her arms curling around his waist. The sound brought back memories of happier days. It had been so long since he’d held her like this, tasted her like this. All the years he’d wandered the wilds, he had tried to convince himself that it was better to let her go. That she was safer at the Sonallium, far away from Geldauran and the web of lies Solas had spun to trap his friend. All that effort only to learn that it had been futile.

It seemed like he was still a fool, even after all these centuries. 

He willed himself to pull back, his lips lingering by the corner of her mouth.

“I–”

“Don’t!” she interrupted, already knowing what he was about to say, and pressed her forehead against his. “Please don’t. We’ll both regret it, trust me.”

Her words caught him like a kick to the stomach. He looked at her speechlessly and their connection in the Beyond perished. She smiled grimly and slipped out of his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say. “I didn’t mean to–”

Felani shook her head, huffing a sad laugh.

“I know,” she said in a low voice and with a stricken expression on her face. “It’s fine. Everything is fine. Truly.”

A moment of awkward silence fell between them. Solas clenched his hands into fists, still searching for the right words. Accepting her reluctance to be with anyone required more and more control over his emotions the longer he knew her. His only consolation was that she was like that with everyone, not just him. Still, he felt like a fool for forgetting. He had been the one to propose to keep things light-hearted between them, after all.

“It seems like I got carried away,” he admitted, making a conscious effort to keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice.

Felani smiled remorsefully and took his hands. Her touch drove the tension from his fingers and he began to relax in spite of himself.

“Just promise me to be careful out there,” she said. “You are needed here.”

The worry in her gaze weakened his resolve and he felt his discomfort waning. It was very hard to be mad at her for long.

“I will,” he said softly. “I’ve already sent word to Mythal to reach out to you. She will come and get you soon. You will be safe, I promise.”

“Much appreciated,” she said and her smile became sad and bitter. “Although I know this is not necessarily a promise you can keep.”

* * *

Shivanas had decided to perform the Rite of Safe Travels in the atrium of the All-Mother’s tower to have room to admit anyone in who was willing to participate in the ritual. Solas, certain that his departure would be a more secretive affair with only a few trusty spirits attending, had scoffed at the idea.

When Solas entered the room with Felani at his side, he felt a knot tighten in his throat. And for the second time that day, he was reminded of his own foolishness.

The atrium was crowded with people who had come to partake in the ritual. Looking around, he recognized a fair share of familiar faces, many of which belonged to spirits and elvhen he called friends. He swallowed hard when he saw Diligence, Duty, and a few of the other spirits serving in the All-Mother’s tower bow their heads reverently to greet him.

Most of the elvhen wore Mythal’s vallaslin on their cheeks and foreheads, but he also saw a few graced with Dirthamen’s, Falon’Din’s, or Ghilan’nain’s blood writing. They must have gone through great lengths to leave their duties and attend the ritual. The thought was heart-warming and terrifying in equal measure. It was bad enough that Felani had risked her well-being on his behalf. He didn’t want to be the cause of more suffering.

“They have come for you,” Felani whispered beside him. “They believe in you. _ The Pride of the People.” _

She had come down to the atrium with him to participate in the ritual as well, despite Solas’s protests. “Nothing odd about having a send-off for an old friend,” she had reassured him, when he’d asked about June’s suspicion if the other smiths returned to the Sonallium without her. “I will tell him that my presence will make him look good in the eyes of his subjects. He can hardly object to that.”

Solas scoffed, a sardonic half-smile on his lips.

“_ The Pride of the People _,” he breathed. “That name casts a large shadow. Let’s hope I can live up to it.”

Felani squeezed his hand encouragingly and smiled at him one last time. 

“Safe travels, Solas,” she said in a solemn tone that didn’t quite suit her, then let go of his hand and slipped away to blend in with the crowd. Watching her go left Solas with a sharp pain in his chest like someone had driven a blade right through his heart.

That was when Shivanas approached him. She was dressed in long robes the color of the night, laden with silver bracelets and pearl strings, and had painted her face in a shade of dusty blue that accentuated the blood writing on her face. 

“Everything is in place,” she said and gestured towards the middle of the room where she had set up a circle of enchanted runes. On the floor between the runes, he caught glimpses of elvhen writing drawn with titan’s blood. Powerful spells meant to strengthen his resolve that waited to be cast. “Shall we begin?”

Solas nodded and followed her silently to the circle.

“Kneel,” she said and cast a glance at the stone floor before her. Solas nodded and did as she asked. He went down on one knee, both hands resting, one on top of the other.

Shivanas turned her back to him and raised her hands up high. The gesture turned the attention of every elvhen and spirit in the atrium to the high keeper. Solas felt their focus shift as they opened their minds and hearts to the Beyond and allowed Shivanas to draw from their energy. A heartbeat later, the writing on the floor came alive with light and song as the high keeper recited a prayer to Mythal. Her chanting was underlined by the hundreds of voices that joined her, invoking the All-Mother’s benevolence, and so the enchantment runes were activated as well. Solas felt the spell tug at his mind, his thoughts, his very being. He drew in a sharp breath and tried not to resist the magic at work. As it began to seep into his soul, the burden he carried on his shoulders became a little lighter. But only a little.

Shivanas turned again, facing Solas, and held a hand over his head. While the song-like prayer around them soared up into the air and filled the atrium with a melodic chime, she called on Mythal to watch over him. When she was finished, a moment of eerie silence followed, before she turned to the two spirits of faith that had stood in attendance.

Each of the spirits carried an item of significance for the ritual. One was a bowl with smoldering incense. The thick smoke rising from it filled Solas’s nostrils and curled around his thoughts, amplifying his connection to the Beyond as well as the effect of the spells around him. The other was a bottle of ointment, that the spirit of faith carrying it handed to the high keeper. The liquid inside was dark and clung to the glass like syrup. 

Shivanas uncorked the bottle and let a few viscous drops of the ointment tickle into her right palm. Then she began to draw a red line from Solas’s forehead to his chin. His skin tingled, where the infusion of titan’s blood, herbs, and oil seeped into his skin. 

“Blessed are the Evanuris,” she said reverently, “and blessed are those who walk this world with their favor.”

It was an old evocation, repeated over and over again for all the elvhen who had left Arlathan to explore the wilds and establish new settlements across the continent after the war. In those days, when Elvhenan had finally come into existence, the ritual had been a symbol of hope and faith in the future. But now, with death following his steps, Solas was anything but hopeful. Even with the enchantments, his heart was heavy and his mind burdened with the knowledge that he was walking into danger with his eyes wide open. And despite his best efforts to steel himself, Solas felt a violent shiver moving down his spine when he heard the voices of the countless elvhen and spirits in the hall repeating the high keeper’s words.

_ “Blessed are the Evanuris, and blessed are those who walk this world with their favor.” _


	12. Fragments of Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas finally embarks on his mission to kill the Black Dread. In the Crossroads, he runs into someone he didn't expect to meet.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

Solas’s plan to find the Black Dread was simple. Once the ritual was complete, he would travel through the Crossroads until he had reached the eluvian that led to the southernmost settlement in Elvhenan. From there, he would continue his journey and follow the traces of the dark creature across the continent and back to its lair. 

It was not his preferred course of action, but he had no other choice. Although the elvhen had claimed most of the known lands, there were still regions that were barely mapped, let alone inhabited. This far away from Arlathan, the few clans that had founded settlements in the south had to rely on their own wits and strength to survive. And he would need to do the same in order to find the Black Dread’s trail. 

By his request, Diligence and some of the other spirits had prepared supplies for Solas. A skin with fresh water, some provisions for his travels through the Crossroads as well as an assortment of potions, tonics, and tools he might find useful. They had stored all of it at a crossing not far from the eluvian that led to the All-Mother’s tower. But as soon as he exited the Crossroads, he would have to rely on what the wilderness provided.

“We put a few bottles of sustenance in this compartment,” Diligence said and pointed to a small pocket at the side of the backpack in which the spirit had stored the supplies. “It is enriched with nutrients. We hope it will help you, should you be unable to find food or water in time.”

The spirit had insisted on accompanying Solas through the eluvian after the Rite of Safe Travels was concluded and the crowd began to dissolve. Solas was relieved to share a few more moments with an old friend before he had to leave for good.

“That is very considerate of you,” he said as he reached for the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I hope I can repay your kindness one day.” 

He felt a touch of admiration in the Beyond originating from the spirit. Solas regarded Diligence and tried to imagine what the spirit would look like, should it decide to make the Passage and craft a body for itself.

“If it helps to bring you back to Arlathan safely, it was worth the effort,” the spirit said. 

Solas felt a dark shadow over his shoulder as he bid his goodbye and walked away from the eluvian. Each step was heavier than the last. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that inaction would cause even greater damage than any ham-handed attempt at stopping the Black Dread. And so he walked for hours on end and opened his mind to the magic around him.

In the Crossroads, the energy of the Beyond came to him more easily and cradled him with its warmth. The air wavered and filled with an intense smell of cedarwood and red weed as birch trees in full bloom swayed in the ghostly wind. Solas took a moment to adjust to the familiar feeling of the Crossroads then set off on a path next to a watercourse that would ultimately lead him to the south.

Without a natural sun cycle to separate one day from the other, he rapidly lost track of time. He slept when he felt tired. He ate when his body craved food. He drank when his lips went dry. Sometimes, he encountered merchants who sought to sell their wares across Elvhenan. Some were accompanied by Arcane Warriors, set to protect either the merchants or the wares, and a few of them shared their stories with Solas, telling him about the latest events in their hometowns and villages. Word of the Black Dread had spread across the empire after the gathering in Arlathan and most elvhen avoided traveling the Crossroads because of it. No wonder he felt lonely as he wandered the stone paths that connected the eluvians. 

On what he believed was his fourth day in the Crossroads, he set up camp at an intersection. A fountain in its middle provided weary travelers such as himself with fresh water and an opportunity to rest. And so Solas rested, stretching out on a patch of soft grass next to the fountain and closed his eyes. Slowly, his awareness of the Waking World fragmented into smaller pieces until his mind was able to fully submerge in the Beyond. Its currents engulfed him and carried him deeper and deeper, passing through layers of ancient memories that were almost as familiar to him as his own. 

Soon, he found himself dreaming of the life he had lived in the days before his Passage. Everything had been so much easier then. The only thing life demanded of him was to fulfill his purpose. There had been no hurt feelings, no bloody battles, or betrayals.

He saw himself, still a nameless spirit, as he helped Geldauran tend to the wounded in his hall. He remembered the stories the elvhen had told him and the secret wisdom they had shared with him in their dreams. And he remembered the soft smile on Geldauran’s lips whenever he told him about a new piece of knowledge he had uncovered. 

He witnessed Geldauran washing away the blood and the pain of his brethren, his white hair braided tightly so it wouldn’t get in the way of his work. His hands moved fast, bloodied by the wounds he treated, but his touch was light and gentle. When Solas asked him why he had chosen to become a healer, he said “We can not heal pain by hiding it. We must accept the blood to make things better.”

“I don’t understand,” Solas replied.

And Geldauran smiled at that, his storm-grey eyes alive with joy and kindness.

“You will,” he’d said. “One day, you will.”

A wave of guilt tugged at Solas and the image wavered. Geldauran’s smile faded, overshadowed by the knowledge of what came after. Darkness closed in quickly, filled with fear and the tang of blood. Solas jerked, fighting back the memories that rushed in next. 

He found himself in a dark chamber. The walls shone with moisture that had gathered on the cool stone. The sound of dripping water filled the air. Soon it would turn to icicles, encasing the old castle in a timeless slumber. 

“I didn’t think you would come.”

The voice sounded familiar, but the man to which it belonged no longer was. Solas saw Geldauran standing on a balcony nearby, his white hair falling freely over his shoulders. His skin looked sickly grey in the pale moonlight. The old healer held out a hand to him, inviting him over. 

Solas tried to resist, but his body moved of its own accord, going through the motions of a memory that could not be changed. He glimpsed the sharp edges of the mountains all around, covered in snow. Then he felt fingers tracing his body, clutching his wrists, and when he tried to break free, he found them covered in blood.

“We’re of the same mind, Solas. Two sides of the same coin. You just can’t see it yet.”

The smell of brine and snow and poisonous rot filled his nose and made his stomach churn. He swallowed hard and focused on the Beyond, allowing its energy to anchor him in the Waking World.

_ This isn’t real. _

“She should never have taken you.” 

Geldauran’s voice was a low growl, a threatening thunder. His lips, cool to the touch, brushed softly against Solas’s ear. Bloody fingers curled around his chin, forcing him to look at the healer. His eyes were cold and adamant. 

_ “You were supposed to be mine.” _

With a gasp, Solas forced himself to wake up. His heart pounded heavily and sweat trickled down his temples. Beneath the armor, his tunic felt damp. He closed his eyes and drew in long shuddering breaths. _ It was just a dream, _ he told himself. _ He’s gone forever. They all are. _

Solas stilled his mind and waited for the bad memories to sink back into the darkness. Bit by bit, new sensations rushed in. The sound of water from the fountain, a faint waft of air, the barely noticeable echo of the Song. Yet, a shadow remained. It took Solas a moment to realize that it was not an emotion that had carried over from his dream. Someone was towering over him, right there, in the Crossroads. He blinked and looked up. 

Before him stood an elvhen. He wore a hood that obscured his features, but Solas could catch a glimpse of the man’s face. His eyes were golden and his skin was smooth and glowing as if it was infused with the light of the moon itself. His aura caused a silent quiver in the Beyond with overlays of concern and sadness. His age was hard to guess but his controlled demeanor gave him away as spirit-born. 

“I’m glad to find you already awake, Elder,” he said and reached up.

The man drew back his hood, revealing silver hair that was cut short on the sides and braided into a thick strand along the top of his head. Mythal’s blood writing graced his cheeks and forehead.

Only then did Solas realize what the man was wearing apart from the hood. A light armor in shades of gold and copper, with black chainmail underneath. He had seen it countless times on many different elvhen, but never this far away from Arlathan.

_ He is a Sentinel. _

Solas stood, regarding the man intently. “Who are you?”

The young man frowned ever so slightly, tilting his head to look at Solas as if he was a curiosity. A moment of silence fell between them before he finally spoke.

“They call me Abelas.”

Abelas._ Sorrow. _The name didn’t ring a bell. Maybe he had been assigned to the order of Sentinels after his last departure from Arlathan. But that didn’t explain why he was here. The Sentinels were tasked with protecting the anchor stones that kept the city in the air and they weren’t known for abandoning their duty. Even during the festivities on Midsummer’s Eve, they were rarely seen among the People. To meet one of them here...

“The All-Mother sent me,” Abelas said as if he’d followed Solas’s train of thoughts. “She wants to speak with you.“

Solas stared at the other man, perplexed. 

Could this really be true?

“Then how–” he began, but stopped himself when another realization manifested in his mind. He scoffed and brought up a hand to brush away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. When his fingers touched the blood writing, he sensed the residue of the ointment Shivanas had marked him with during the Rite of Safe Travels. 

Involuntarily, he laughed. It was so painfully obvious. Mythal had abandoned the capital to appease her fellow Evanuris, seemingly leaving Solas to his own demise. To maintain the illusion, she had sent her high keeper to perform the ritual and reassure Solas of the All-Mother’s favor. A ritual that would cast a spell on him that was traceable by any knowledgeable elvhen. That was how Abelas had found him.

_ This was her plan all along. _

“Of course,” Solas muttered to himself. “I should have known.”

Abelas’s frown grew deeper.

Solas smiled sardonically and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said and collected his things and shouldered the backpack with his supplies. “We can go right away if you wish.”

The other man’s only reply was a slight curl of his lips. Then he turned and began walking towards a pathway that led away from the fountain. Solas cast a glance around, orienting himself. Cardinal directions didn’t bear the same meaning in the Crossroads they did in the Waking World, but every wanderer needed to know the location of the eluvian that would lead him back there.

“Wait,” he said and hurried to catch up with Abelas. “Where are you going?”

The Sentinel turned. 

“The All-Mother is waiting for you in the Arbor Wilds.”

Now it was Solas’s turn to frown.

“She is not in her palace in Ethen’an?”

Abelas shook his head, his golden eyes glistening. Solas couldn’t help but wonder what the man was thinking about. At least the expression on his face was authentic, if grave. He had no reason to suspect duplicity of a man who was bound to Mythal like he was.

“She left a few days ago. I can’t tell you more than that, though, I’m afraid.”

_ Peculiar_, Solas mused but didn’t dare to say the words out loud. 

“In that case,” he said at last, “lead the way.”

* * *

Since the Darkest Days, the Arbor Wilds had been a dense, impenetrable jungle devoid of elvhen life, and its lush flora grew more strongly and more vividly than anything Solas had ever seen before. Wildflowers in red and yellow sprinkled the grassy undergrowth and marked the branches of trees and thickets like lavish decorations. Mushrooms as large as buildings covered the trunks of dead trees and in doing so played their part in nature’s endless cycle of death and rebirth.

Following Abelas through a clear path in the underbrush, Solas watched the sun move across the sky until he found himself on the edge of a cliff overlooking the wilderness below. Miles ahead, in the middle of the valley that spread out before the two men, hundreds of elvhen workers had begun to erect a new monument. The foundation and outer walls had already been set in stone and the magic of the Beyond that the workers called down from the skies aided in the construction efforts so that the building grew larger and larger by the minute. 

“What is this place?”, Solas asked hoarsely.

“A sanctuary,” Abelas said and gave him a sidelong glance. “Or it will be, one day when the All-Mother’s plans come to fruition.”

The Sentinel led them down a narrow pathway that ran along the side of the cliff in serpentines. It took them the better part of the afternoon to descend into the valley and make their way through the forest to reach their destination.

The temple complex was surrounded by ramparts and battlements in various states of completion. Solas caught glimpses of elvhen workers traversing the scaffolding of walls or digging pits where the foundations of a building would be. All of them wore the vallaslin of the All-Mother and all of them stared as Solas and Abelas passed. 

_ Who are all these people? _

Solas didn’t recall any news on the movement of troops or workers from any of the major settlements in the Heartlands. _ A band of misfits, maybe? _ he thought. _ Brought back into the fold by Mythal’s guiding hand? _ There was no way to be certain. But that wasn’t the only surprise. Among the workers, there were more warriors clad in the intricate armor of the Sentinels and they greeted Abelas with a friendly nod when he walked past.

_ It seems the All-Mother has been busy, _ Solas thought.

They found Mythal at the center of her new sanctuary. In a clear open space, the All-Mother of Elvhenan sat in silence, holding out one hand in front of her. Flickers of green light danced around her fingers as she cast her spell, nurturing the earth with magical energy.

Solas and Abelas stopped a few paces away and watched as a sapling began to sprout in front of the All-Mother. Its leaves gleamed in shades of green, blue and violet. Solas felt the magic of the Beyond infused in the small plant, helping it grow faster and faster.

The sapling had all but grown into a young tree when Mythal got to her feet and turned to her visitors. Her face was just like Solas remembered it, keen and sharp. She wore her white hair in four braids that curled up to both sides of her face like dragon horns. Solas tried to make out any hints towards the sickness that had forced Mythal to retreat to her palace in Ethen’an, but to him, the All-Mother looked as healthy and vibrant as she always had.

_ So it was a ruse, _ he concluded. _ Of course it was. _

“That’ll be all,” Mythal said to Abelas and the young Sentinel bowed deeply. He cast another dark side-glance at Solas before backing away. Solas watched the Sentinel walk away, waiting for him to be out of earshot.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” he asked in a mocking tone.

“Don‘t mind Abelas,” Mythal said. “He’s always like that. Although I thought you would feel a certain kinship with him. He surely can be as grim in the fulfillment of his duties as you are.”

Solas spun around to face her, frowning.

The All-Mother clasped her hands in front of her and walked over to Solas at a slow pace. Her lips thinned into a line and the muscles around her eyes tensed.

“I’m sorry I kept silent, my friend,” Mythal said as she approached and offered him a warming smile. 

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know that you had good reasons to stay away. After what happened between Elgar’nan and Falon’Din, it was best to let them have their way in order to cool their anger. Sometimes you have to lose one battle to win a war.”

“I see you have picked up on that already.” She let out a chuckle. “Well done.”

“It was a gamble though,” he replied. “To have the Evanuris believe you are sick bears the risk of them thinking you are weak enough to be attacked.”

Mythal waved a hand, dismissing the idea. 

“We don’t need to worry about that just yet,” she told him. “The other gods are too wrapped up in their internal quarrels to mind me. But I agree, time is of the essence. If I stay away from Arlathan too long they will most certainly get ideas.” 

All that she said with a carefreeness that betrayed the gravity of her words. 

“In fact, their quarreling is the reason why I couldn’t let you leave for the south before we had the chance to speak in private,” Mythal said.

“Yes, I had hoped we could talk,” Solas told her. 

“About Felani, yes,” Mythal replied. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you still care for that woman, even after all this time.”

Solas swallowed and clenched his fists. 

“It’s not just that,” he said. “Some of the most recent events in Arlathan are… quite disturbing.”

Mythal raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I had a rather interesting conversation with Andruil,” Solas said, feeling his stomach revolt as he remembered the goddess’s advances on him. “She is sporting a new armor as of late. It gives off a faint red light and is pervaded with a sense of… _ sickness. _ I went to Felani to ask her about it since she was the one to craft the armor. She has no idea where the changes came from but I guess that she found it on her hunt for the Black Dread prior to the last gathering in the Ring of Summons.”

“So she has begun to parade around in that peculiar armor of hers openly,” Mythal said as if she was talking to herself rather than Solas. Her gaze drifted off. “That doesn’t bode well. Not well, at all.”

_ I should have known she was aware of this, _ Solas thought.

“I first saw Andruil in that armor when she called on Elgar’nan and me to meet in the Ring of Summons,” Mythal told him. “She was furious over the loss of her hunters, or at least she pretended to be, well enough that Elgar’nan called for the gathering. But I was not so easily deceived by her.” Mythal sighed, a deep and remorseful sound. “I’ve noticed the change in her behavior for quite some time now. Andruil has never been a calm spirit. Such is the nature of Ambition. You know this as well as I do. But even in the Darkest Days, when she still had to tame her own desires and hone her skills, she would never have thrown a temper tantrum like that.”

Mythal shook her head slightly, smiling sadly to herself. “I fear something has taken hold of her, amplifying her darker character traits. Sooner or later, it will tear her apart.”

Solas clasped his hands behind his back, recalling his last encounter with Andruil. The armor had had a peculiar effect on his awareness but there had also been the subtle changes to the goddess’s appearance. The blood-shot eyes, the waxy skin, the sudden shifts in behavior, all of it had made his suspicion that Andruil’s body had been infected with some kind of disease grow stronger and stronger. It seemed Mythal had come to the same conclusion.

“Looking at you, I assume you have an idea what has taken hold of my daughter?”, Mythal asked, eyeing him intently. 

“Something about her eyes, her skin… it reminded me of...” Solas let his words trail off. He clenched his fits and willed himself to continue. “I’ve seen something similar on the Forgotten Ones after they had begun searching for the Void.”

Mythal raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The afternoon sun shimmered ghostly in her golden eyes.

“The Void?” she asked.

Solas sighed heavily. Suddenly, Mythal’s presence felt less comforting than he had hoped. He could sense her aura pouring energy into the Beyond like a fire radiating heat. A slight breeze, and it would set the world around ablaze. He had seen her power unleashed before when she had brought justice upon the elvhen who had dared to abandon or turn against their brethren during the war. Like a flaming sword, she had cut them down, one by one, until Elvhenan had been cleansed of their treason and deception.

Would she erupt in similar anger when he told her about what he had done? Or would his faith in her kindness be rewarded?

“When the Forgotten Ones first told me about the Void, I believed it to be the sort of notion that can only be uttered by the desperate and the foolish,” Solas said. “But admittedly, their exile has made Geldauran and his brothers rather desperate. They longed to regain their strength, to turn their defeat into a glorious victory.”

Solas paused, gathering his thoughts. It had been so long since he had dared to let the memories of his last encounter with Geldauran emerge from the dark corners of his consciousness. For a while, he had even managed to trick himself into believing that they were nothing but figments of magical energy, residue from the emotions reflected in the Beyond. But they were very much real and it was about time Mythal learned about what he knew. His growing suspicion that Geldauran’s disappearance and the rise of the Black Dread were connected demanded it. Also, it would ease his conscience. Or so he hoped, at least.

“I told you what Geldauran used to say about the titan’s blood. ‘The foundation on which Elvhanan was built’. But he knew – just as Anaris and Daern’thal knew – that the power held within was out of his reach as the Evanuris hold dominion over all the mines. So he and his brothers looked for answers in the Beyond. They dove deeper and deeper and even when the Deepest Fade repelled them, they didn’t stop. They thought that beyond that barrier they would gain access to the primordial energy that had shaped the world, to the Song itself.”

“I see.” Mythal took a long breath as she realized the meaning behind Solas’s words. 

Until that day, titan’s blood was the only known substance to carry fragments of the Song in its rawest form. The substance was so potent that it overwhelmed and poisoned the minds of those who mined it sooner or later. Only in its refined form, the elvhen were able to master the energy contained within to craft rituals and spells and enchantments. To be able to draw from the Song itself would mean to gain all the power of the titan’s blood without relying on rare resources. The Forgotten Ones would have been unstoppable.

Solas pressed his lips into a thin line and waited for Mythal to respond to his news. The All-Mother drew in another sharp breath, thinking quietly. When she spoke again, her eyes narrowed but her voice remained calm. 

“And how come you know of this, my friend?”

That was the part of the story Solas was the least keen about. It was the part he had kept her in the dark about deliberately.

“After the Forgotten Ones were exiled and I left the capital behind,” he said slowly and clasped his hands behind his back, steeling himself for her reaction, “I went to see Geldauran and his brothers one last time. They had built a refuge in the mountains.” He turned his gaze to the East. “They called it a sanctuary but to me it was nothing but a tomb. A cold and dark place full of dead bodies and dampened spirits. Many had died trying to enter the Eternal Dream. Or that’s what I suspected at the time. All I could see were the People withering away like flowers forced to grow in shadows. And Geldauran and his brothers were no exception.”

Solas closed his eyes for a moment and, involuntarily, fragments of the dream he’d had in the Crossroads returned to him. Wet stone walls, icicles and a chilling breeze in every hallway. A voice, sharp like a shard of ice, echoed in his mind.

_ “You were supposed to be mine.” _

“The search for the Void was slowly killing them,” Solas continued, his voice dripping with regret. “I spoke to Geldauran about this, urged him to stop this madness, but he wouldn’t listen. None of them would. The only thing they cared about was this ridiculous quest for revenge that was eating them alive. When I realized that they wouldn’t stop, I did the only thing I thought would bring them down for good.”

Now it was his turn to suck in a sharp breath, willing himself to say the words he dreaded to admit even to himself.

“I... _ encouraged _ them to continue their search, hoping they would either find some final peace in the Beyond or perish.”

Mythal raised her eyebrows.

“It was reckless and foolish of me, I know,” Solas interjected before she had a chance to reply. He scoffed and shook his head. “I never cared to think that there could be another way, another outcome to these events. Now I’m not so sure. What if the Forgotten Ones in their quest for greater power have awakened something terrible? What if it consumes the essence of spirits and elvhen to reinstate itself in this world?”

“Like the beast you are supposed to kill, you mean?” Mythal asked.

“Yes,” Solas answered bitterly.

“Well, then we have a much bigger problem at our hands than I have expected,” the All-Mother said.

Solas lowered his head to avoid Mythal’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you before that you should not blame yourself so easily.” She waved her hand once more. “You did what you thought was best for the People. I can hardly blame you for a mistake you could not have been aware of at the time.”

Solas allowed himself to relax, despite the pang of guilt in his guts.

“We have to keep this hidden from the other Evanuris, though, “Mythal continued. “If they learn about this…”

“I’m afraid they already have.”

And so Solas went on to tell her about his meeting with Dirthamen. How the god of secrets had asked Solas to deliver the creature to him. 

“I could not let that happen because I fear what kind of power he might gain,” Solas said. “And from what Felani told me, June has suspicions of his own. Now that he learned about Andruil’s armor, I have no doubt that he will investigate what happened to his sister.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Mythal said. “We have less time than I thought, then. I will need to return to Arlathan at once.” She looked Solas up and down. “As for you… we can’t have you venture south by conventional ways of travel. You need to find the Black Dread as fast as possible.”

“But what should I do? it’s not like we have access to the far south. We have no eluvians there. That is why we exiled the Forgotten Ones there in the first place! If I had the gift of shapeshifting, I would gladly turn myself into an eagle or a phoenix. But without it, well...”

A sly smile began to spread across Mythal’s face.

“In that case, my friend,” she said, “I have a surprise waiting for you.”


	13. Where Death Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythal has a surprise waiting. Solas finally picks up the Black Dread's trail.

> _-3,700 Ancient _

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Solas said and pushed aside the leaf of a fern bush blocking his way, “but where are we going?”

Mythal didn’t turn to look at him. Each of her steps was full of intent and determination. She dodged a low-hanging branch groaning under the weight of ripe fruit and jumped over a fallen log.

“Be calm, Solas. You will see soon enough.”

Solas pressed his lips together, stifling a frustrated sigh. He had no idea where she was leading him but it was apparent that this part of the Arbor Wilds had been untouched by the People. The flora grew even more lavishly here and the noise from the construction site that would one day be the Temple of Mythal had been drowned out by the sounds of birds and beasts. It felt like desecration, leaving footprints in the undergrowth. But he trusted her and so he followed Mythal through the forest without complaint. 

Even without tapping into the power of the Beyond, Solas could feel the life around him pulsing like energy reverberating in his very soul. It reminded him of a time long before he’d barely had a conscious awareness of himself when his mind had just begun to sunder from the Song and take an ethereal form. 

They continued to walk in silence until they reached a clearing in the forest. Golden sunlight illuminated the grass and gave life to a myriad of flowers. Mythal walked a few more paces, then stopped and gestured Solas to do the same. He obeyed and sensed a shift in the Beyond. The All-Mother drew from the dense energy around them until the lines between her mind and the world around her began to blur. Her aura became brighter, burning. Solas squinted, dropping his own connection to the Beyond to protect himself, but even then he felt the maelstrom of energy that whirled around Mythal like a hurricane. It closed in around her, embracing her, and then burst outward like an invisible explosion.

Around them, the forest erupted into a frenzy. Animals cried out, flocks of birds rose into the air in a barrage of rustling feathers. Despite himself, Solas twitched and whirled around to see a swarm of parrots scattering.

Behind him, Mythal released the energy of the skies again and the noise died down as suddenly as it had appeared. For a moment, Solas could only hear the thundering of his own heart and the soft breeze brushing through the canopy.

Then the dragon came. 

It was a beast of rare beauty, with golden scales that were brimmed in shades of red and orange, and strong muscles moving underneath. Four horns protruded backward from its massive head and curled slightly upward. The dragon twisted its head as it descended into the valley and let out a deep growl that echoed in the wilderness below. 

When the dragon landed on the jungle floor with a thud, Solas was struck in awe. Despite the reverence all elvhen felt towards the Divine, only the Evanuris dared to approach them openly. There were a chosen few who’d had the chance to lay eyes on them but Solas had never dared imagine himself to be one of them. Dragons were wild and ferocious and usually entangled in duties all of their own. 

Mythal drew herself upright and walked towards the dragon without an ounce of hesitation. 

“It’s so good to see you again”, she said and raised a hand in a way of greeting.

A deep grumble emerged from the dragon’s throat as it lowered its head and nuzzled Mythal’s hand. She pressed against her, then let out a slow humming sound.

“Yes, it’s been a long time,” Mythal said. 

Solas inhaled, taking in the smell of heat and coal and ash that suddenly hung in the air, and looked at the All-Mother and her dragon. Mythal smiled at the beast with a pure gentleness he had never seen in her before. 

As if she had noticed his staring, Mythal turned to Solas and presented him with a prideful smile. 

“Come closer, my friend,” she said, still stroking the snout of the dragon.

Carefully, Solas came closer. 

“This is Vestele,” Mythal told him, a proud rider presenting her best mount. “Long ago, her ancestors bestowed upon me the gift of life. Ever since we were bound to each other by our shared blood. She and her kin have never let me down.”

“I see,” Solas said and felt the dragon’s gaze on him. The slits in Vestele’s golden eyes were narrow, inquisitive.

Under Mythal’s watchful eye, he raised a hand and held it up so the dragon could pick up his scent. The beast turned its head, sniffing curiously, then let out a low growl that sounded like approval.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

The dragon leaned forward and nudged him softly in return.

The smile on Mythal’s face widened. 

“She likes you.”

Solas allowed himself to relax and cautiously pat the side of Vestele’s head. Her scales were warm and smooth under his fingers.

“Why did you bring her here?” Solas asked, nodding towards the surrounding jungle. 

“Vestele and her kin have lived in this wilderness for centuries,” she told him. “Here, she has the skies to herself, doing whatever she pleases. She knows every tree, every cliff, and every mountain by heart. With her help, you will reach your destination in a matter of hours instead of days.“

Solas‘s gaze flicked to Mythal as he finally understood.

“You want me to ride on her?” he asked, his voice full of bewilderment. “Are you serious?”

He could almost hear Elgar‘nan‘s booming voice, declaring it an insult against the gods that a servant like Solas would mount a dragon. Only the Evanuris were allowed to associate with the majestic creatures for they were like family to them. It was their privilege, granted by the bond they shared with the Divine since the Darkest Days.

In that bygone age, when the city of Arlathan had not been founded yet, the mighty creatures had guided Mythal and Elgar’nan. They had shown them how to take a physical form and spilled their own blood to breathe life into them. Thus, the All-Mother and All-Father had been bound to the Divine just like those wearing the vallaslin were bound to their elders. This blood tie had raised the People up and had allowed them to conquer an entire continent. 

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened, my friend” Mythal said, mockery gleaming in her eyes. 

“I’m not,” he replied. “It‘s just … it doesn’t feel right. As if I was asking her to perform a service when she should roam the skies freely, unburdened by what is going on below.”

“Only if you think of Vestele as my servant, which she is not,” Mythal said. “But you are right. The Divine were born free and they shall remain thus. In carrying you to your destination she is doing me a favor, not obeying some command.”

The dragon snorted as if she wanted to confirm Mythal‘s words. 

“I am glad to hear it,” Solas said.

Vestele shifted and crouched down, wings folded in such a way that it left her muscular forelegs exposed. Solas knew she was offering herself to him, making it easier for him to climb onto her. He patted the dragon’s leg thankfully before he turned to the All-Mother again.

“There is one more thing before I go,” he said. “About Felani...”

“Yes,” the All-Mother said and tilted her head. “The deal you spoke about in your letter. The removal of the vallaslin. Are you sure that this is a wise idea, my friend?”

“June threatened Felani after she made the armor for Andruil and commanded her to never make another one like it,” Solas pointed out. “Now that she has disobeyed him, she is right to fear his wrath. He has already mutilated her before. I fear this time he will do far worse than just tear her arm out.”

A moment of silence stretched out between them while Mythal considered his request. 

“I would not ask this of you under any other circumstance,” Solas hurried to say, “but I fear for Felani’s life and don’t want to see it lost to greed and malevolence. She is too… _ valuable _ for that.”

“I see.”

Solas waited, trying to read the expression on the All-Mother‘s face. The lines around her mouth were tight and her brows knitted into a soft frown, but apart from that, he couldn’t make out any discomfort.

“I know I have asked this before and I’m not interested in prying into your personal business,” Mythal said thoughtfully, “but do you still love her?”

Solas held his breath, his muscles tensing involuntarily. His relationship with Felani had always been complicated. After the battle that had followed the raising of Arlathan, there had never been the right time or right place for them to be more than friends that occasionally shared a bed. But that hadn’t stopped the bond that had formed between them from growing stronger as the years passed. He had been drawn to her just as she had been to him, bound by something deeper they’d never had the chance to truly explore. And there was no use in denying such an apparent truth. Not to himself, and not to Mythal who knew his heart better than anyone else.

“I do,” he said.

Mythal sighed. “So this is what this was truly about?”

“No,” Solas replied. “It was a deal struck to secure Felani’s help. My personal feelings are of no concern in this matter. I merely felt that it might be seen as dishonorable of me to not offer compensation for her services, considering she is putting her life at risk on my behalf. If this would be known, your reputation would suffer as surely as my own.”

Mythal drew in a long breath, staring at Solas.

“Felani certainly is a resourceful woman,” she admitted. “Sadly, June never saw her full potential. He should have made her his high keeper instead of that babbling excuse for a man when he had the chance. What great things she might have accomplished in his name. A shame, really.”

“Will you help her then?” Solas asked and allowed himself to hope.

“You should get going,“ Mythal said evasively and nodded towards Vestele. “We don’t have much time.”

Reluctantly, Solas nodded. If Mythal didn‘t want to give him an answer, he had to accept that. No force in the Waking World could make the All-Mother do anything she didn’t want to do. So he took a step towards the dragon and readied himself. He was about to climb onto the dragon‘s back when Mythal raised a hand and placed it on his arm. He stopped dead and blinked at her.

“Be vigilant, my friend,” she said. “Whether or not the Forgotten Ones have found this _ Void_, the Black Dread can not be allowed to endure.”

The graveness with which she said these words made him shiver. He swallowed and tried to look into her golden eyes one last time. They were filled with pride and love and sorrow and regret. 

“I will honor the deal you made with Felani,” she said.

Solas smiled softly at that, a wave of gratitude rushing through him. 

“Thank you.”

Mythal scoffed, brushing aside the moment of vulnerability with a gesture and returning to her usual imposing posture.

“Consider it a reward for your effort to silence the Forgotten Ones forever, if it makes you feel better,” she said in a careless tone. “Just make sure you return to Arlathan, my friend. Life would be a very dull affair without you.”

“I will do my best,” he promised with more confidence than he actually felt. 

Relieved of the worry for Felani, he finally began to mount the dragon. He traversed the strong foreleg and shoulders, then hurled himself upward to reach her neck. Vestele hummed and waited, while Solas settled in, searching for a loose scale to hold on to. 

“Just follow her lead and you‘ll be fine,” Mythal told him. “She knows how to keep you safe.”

Solas barely had time to say goodbye before Vestele spread her mighty wings and ascended into the air. He cursed and held onto the dragon’s neck. His muscles ached from the effort and sweat began to gather on his brow. The Arbor Wilds grew smaller and smaller beneath him. Soon after, he lost sight of the forest clearing, of Mythal, and of her future sanctuary.

* * *

The sky was alive with the magic of the Beyond, embracing Solas with its warm and comforting energy as he and Vestele raced through the air. 

It took him a while to get accustomed to the dragon’s movement beneath him. Vestele’s muscles shifted with every stroke of her wings, while his own grew tense with the effort of keeping his seating. Night was almost upon them when he finally found the right rhythm and they moved as one. From then on, the ride became much easier for him.

Solas kept his eyes on the horizon, watching the snow-capped mountains that peaked through the clouds while the sunset in the West. The dying light drenched them in shades of red and orange, violet and blue until, finally, the sun vanished and the stars took over the night sky. 

Vestele gave a high-pitched sound. A question, undoubtedly.

Solas placed both hands firmly on the scales on her neck and focused on the Beyond. Through magic, he sent a feeling of reassurance and gratitude to Vestele. “It’s alright,” he said, struggling to get the words out against the churning winds around them. 

The mighty dragon craned her head and wrapped her wings closer to her body. Solas’s stomach dropped as they picked up speed, soaring through the sky like an arrow released from the bowstring. He leaned forward to offer smaller wind resistance. And while a part of him believed himself mad for riding on Vestele’s back, excitement rushed through him, filling him with a lust for life he hadn’t experienced for centuries.

Vestele dove down, taking them through the thin layer of clouds that had covered the uncharted territory beneath them. They were approaching the mountain range, and fast. Still, Solas felt no fear and wasn’t surprised, when Vestele steered towards a pass between two peaks and tilted sideways to slip through. 

On the other side of the mountains, the lands were bare and devoid of life. Glaciers lined the sides of the mountains and ran deep into ragged valleys. Snow covered every tree, bush or blade of grass for miles. Solas felt a peculiar chill in the air and his breath began to rise from his lips in a puff of white mist. 

_ No wonder the People are not keen to roam these lands_, Solas thought as he regarded a frozen lake in the distance. There were remains of small settlements along its shore, black dots in a world of icy white. _ Only the desperate suffer such cold willingly. _

At dawn, they passed a valley with an abandoned elvhen settlement. The village was small, consisting of seventeen large huts that had been grouped around a fireplace. Not far off, the elvhen had erected a burial site for their elders where they could enter the Eternal Dream while being protected by their clan. Amidst the stone buildings that served as bed chambers for the eternal dreamers, Solas could see the eluvian gleaming with starlight. It was the one he originally intended to use before Abelas had come to find him in the Crossroads.

In its prime, the settlement must have been home to a few dozen elvhen, maybe even a hundred. Now, all that remained were the last remnants of life, and an eluvian encircled with a set of stones.

_ The Black Dread has been here_, Solas thought bitterly. _ It must have driven them off or killed them. _

A sense of sorrow settled in his guts. During his wandering years, he had often visited villages like this one. How many times had he sat down with the keepers to listen to their stories? How often did he offer comfort or advice to help them in their plight? He couldn’t help but wonder when these villagers last met a friendly elvhen to bring them news from Arlathan. His only hope was that some of the People had survived and had found a new home, a new place where they would be safe from the Black Dread.

After they had passed over the village, the devastation became more and more obvious. The white wastes of the south became tainted with black rot that spread like a disease. Trees and bushes had withered away. Even the earth itself had turned sour. All across this desert of destruction, Solas saw the trails of a giant creature traversing through the chaos as if it were nothing.

He bit back the foul taste in his mouth and closed his eyes in the faint hope he could forget what he’d just seen. Vestele noticed his distress, letting out a deep purr that matched Solas’s remorse. The dragon passed over the dead earth then flew in a long curve and started her descent. She brought them in low by a small lake shimmering in the morning light, a few dozen miles away from the destruction.

Even something simple like an untouched lake full of crystal-clear water was a sight for his sore eyes. And so he held onto Vestele until they were back on solid ground.

He slid off the dragon’s back, and Vestele went to the lake to drink from it. Solas accompanied her, sitting on a rock and drinking from his waterskin. For a moment, he pondered with the idea of eating, but the devastation he just saw had spoiled his appetite. Instead, he watched the sun rise in the east and thought of Arlathan. 

In his mind’s eye, he saw the crystal tower of Mythal glistening in the cold sunlight. He all but heard the voices of elvhen and spirits in the streets going about their daily business. Their shouting and laughter, their crying and chanting filled his memory and he felt warm inside. These were the people he was fighting for. Good people who wanted nothing more but peace, love and joy in their lives.

_ Never forget your purpose, _ Mythal had once told him. And he did not mean to. He had come into this world, endured the pain of the Passage into the Waking World, to serve it wholeheartedly. 

And yet, knowing what he knew now, it was so much harder than he’d imagined.

He only hoped that Mythal would be able to bring order back to Arlathan. And there was some comfort in knowing that she would free Felani from the ties that bound her to June.

Vestele squealed nervously, drawing his attention back to the real world. The dragon thrashed, her eyes fixed on the sky. Solas followed her gaze and paused.

There was another dragon circling through the air. In the early morning light, it was nothing more but a shadowy shape, not larger than one of his fingernails. Still, he didn’t fail to notice that there was something odd about the creature. Somehow, its shape seemed to flicker, like a mirage tempting travelers with the shimmery illusion of an oasis. It was the magical aura of a shapeshifting spell, echoing in the Beyond and the Waking World.

“Oh, can’t you just leave me alone?” Solas asked in an icy tone. 

Only the gods knew how to shift into the form of the Divine. But which one had come to keep an eye on him? Andruil had been eager to send her hunters with him. After he had refused her offer, had she returned to the place where she herself had lost to Black Dread’s trail? No, that couldn’t be right. Andruil was long and sleek when in her dragon form, like a giant serpent. And the creature couldn’t be Dirthamen for the silhouette of the dragon that roamed the sky didn’t match them either. In their divine form, Dirthamen was small, with pale grey scales and a feather-tipped tail. This dragon, on the other hand, was enormous with black, bat-like wings. Elgar’nan then. Or perhaps Falon’Din? Father and son both appeared as gigantic creatures when in dragon form. But Elgar’nan’s hide was golden, radiating with the heat of the sun, while Falon’Din sported scales of purple and midnight blue.

Solas shook his head. Whoever it was, he needed to get going. 

“Thank you, my friend,” he told Vestele and patted her foreleg. “I couldn’t have come this far without your help.”

The dragon eyed him warmly, then bowed her head and nudged him with her snout again. It was a gentle gesture, but he struggled to keep his footing. Solas chuckled, despite himself.

“I enjoyed our flight, too,” he said.

Vestele gave a satisfied squeal and flapped her wings. A moment later, she was back in the air. Solas stood there silently and watched until she had vanished in the distance. 

The other dragon didn’t give chase but kept circling in the sky like an eagle searching for its prey. 

“Whatever it is you’re looking for,” Solas said grimly, “I’ll make sure you won’t get it.”

After he had forced himself to eat dried fruit and a slice of bread from his supplies, Solas readjusted his armor and weapon and began his walk towards the tainted lands where the Black Dread had left its trail.


	14. Birth by Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the Sonallium, Felani waits for Mythal to make her move – and goes toe-to-toe with her own high keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: This chapter is NSFW. You can find a smut-free version [over here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811559/chapters/68060659). Content warnings for murder, drug use and implied/referenced torture are in effect.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

Ever since Sylaise had dreamed up the home she wanted to create for herself and her beloved husband, Felani had utterly loved the Sonallium. There had been something daring about the idea when Sylaise had first told her about her plan: to build an edifice, unlike anything the People had seen before. A perfect sphere, containing everything that life had to offer. Felani still remembered the sense of fulfillment and joy and happiness that had overflowed her sense when Sylaise had drawn from the energy of the Beyond to show Felani her dream.

“I want it to have everything June could possibly want,” Sylaise had said to her, eyes glistening with affection, “and you know his work better than anyone.”

That a powerful woman such as Sylaise, known for the care she put into her own work, would ask Felani for advice had been more than a compliment. It had felt as if she had ascended to new heights. She had caught a glimpse of that greatness Elgar’nan and Mythal had promised to the People. And Felani had felt drunk and dizzy with confidence as if she could conquer the whole world by herself. It had been intoxicating, and highly addictive.

From then on, she had worked tirelessly to help Sylaise, offering ideas of her own and making important revisions as the goddess’s plans for the Sonallium advanced. She had helped design the smithy that served as the main workshop for June and his workers and supported the entire monument with warmth and light. It had been her idea to have water run through the smooth stones of the Sonallium to keep the temperature within the sphere steady and she had crafted hundreds, if not thousands, of showpieces to decorate the halls and corridors. For the first time since Elgar’nan had shown her the dream of Elvhenan and had given her into June’s careful hands to learn from him, she had come close to realizing her full potential.

When Sylaise finally revealed her plan to June, the Master of Crafts had been overcome with such joy that he hadn’t been able to speak. The two Evanuris had stared at each other until June had drawn his wife into his arms and held her closely. Felani had never seen her master on the verge of tears before and never had again afterward.

Night had fallen over the Sonallium and the busy noise in the smithy was slowly dying down. Felani wiped the sweat from her brow and moved her left arm in its socket to release a tiny bit of that tension that had built up in her muscles while she worked. She had abandoned the sling in which she had carried the arm the day after Solas had left Arlathan and tried harder than ever to regain the strength and precision she had become used to. Crafting the armor for Solas certainly had contributed to that, but she couldn’t help but get to work again as soon as she had returned to her workshop.

Felani drew from the magic in her blood to guide the flames of the furnace towards the freshly-forged blade she was working on. Light licked at the dark steel, making it easier for her to fold and strengthen the metal.

The folding of steel had been one of the first techniques June had taught her after she had pledged loyalty to him and that knowledge had allowed her to craft marvels that were only second to her master’s creations. This blade, however, was something different. She would use her knowledge and experience to mold it into something new. It would serve a new purpose once – or if – the All-Mother decided to free her. Therefore, Felani had sent all assistants and spirits away to work alone and in silence. The blade was her little secret and she wouldn’t show it to anyone until it was ready. 

Luckily, the Master of Crafts had left the Sonallium to pay a visit to his sibling Dirthamen. No one, not even Sylaise, expected him to return soon. Felani guessed that her master would be gone for a fortnight at least and she had breathed a little easier ever since Sylaise had given her the news. 

But even with her ambition burning like a fire inside her, urging her to keep going, even Felani had to admit that she couldn’t continue at break-neck speed forever. Even metal needed time to sit and rest. The time it spent cooling down was just as essential as the skill of the blacksmith.

She brought down her hammer a few more times on the burning blade on her anvil, kindling the heat inside with her own magic, then turned to dip it into a bowl of water sitting by the furnace. The metal hissed and a puff of white smoke erupted from the water‘s surface. When she was sure the blade had cooled down enough, she set it aside on special hooks that hung from a wall nearby and cast a spell that activated the set of opals embedded surrounding it. She felt a power surge rush through the Beyond when the enchantment activated and concealed her creation safely.

With a heavy sigh, she took off her working clothes and wiped more sweat from her brows. It had been a long day, just like the one before, and the one before that. Still, the thought of retiring for the night made her uneasy. Ever since she had awakened from the torment June had put her through, the remains of her arm in bloody dressings, her sleep was haunted with dreams of dreadful shadows. Felani wasn’t certain if she was ready to face them again just yet.

She cleaned herself up with a splash of water in one of the bathing rooms near the smithy and changed into a pair of breeches, a loose tunic, and a heavy brocade vest. Her hair she kept in a long braid that fell heavy over her shoulder while she put on new foot wrappings. Once she had made herself presentable, she bound a pouch filled with coins to her belt and made her way through the long corridors of the Sonallium.

Her steps took her up a few levels where the hallways were decked with gilded mosaics from the war against the Children of the Stone. The braziers were lit with red and yellow fires that cast large and threatening shadows across the decorations. The effect reminded her of the carnage she had witnessed with her own eyes once the battle had ended. And again, a sense of fear made her scalp itchy and began to slowly crawl down her spine. She hurried past the mosaics and focused on the lush carpets that swallowed the sound of her steps and the arched windows that offered a veiled view of the outside world.

Soon after, she reached the entrance to a larger hall that was even more ornate than the rest of the Sonallium. Vines of gold twisted around columns of black marble that crisscrossed far overhead in countless arches. The polished stone floor was almost fully covered by deep-red carpets, matching the embrium flowers covering the walls like living tapestry. The heavy scent of smoldering incense rose from various bowls that stood scattered throughout, and imbued her with a sense of relaxation as soon as she entered.

They called it the House of Respite and it had everything to offer that one could ask for. Whatever means of relaxation you needed - food, sleep, sex - you would be able to find it here. Created by Sylaise herself and maintained by her high keeper and their trusted servants, it was a showcase of the goddess’s inherent powers. If the smithy was the burning heart of the Sonallium, the House of Respite was its soul. 

Upon entering, an elvhen woman in semi-transparent silks gilded towards Felani. Her face was covered with the curling lines of Sylaise’s vallaslin and painted in shades of violet and purple that blended perfectly with her dark skin. Golden bracelets curled around her upper arms, linked by golden chains running around her back.

“Welcome, honored elder,” the servant cooed and offered Felani a warm smile. “We are humbled to have you walk these halls once more. What is it you wish for?”

“I’m here to see Mhirir,” she said sternly.

“Of course.” The woman bowed her head in understanding. “Do you harbor any particular wishes for your recreation so he might make the necessary preparations?”

“Just the usual,” Felani said with a dismissive gesture.

“Of course, honored elder.” She clasped her hands before her chest. “How do you intend to pay for Mhirir’s services?”

Felani schooled her face into an expression of placidity and let three gold coins from the pouch on her belt fall into the woman’s hand.

Within the Sonallium, information was considered the most valuable currency. Share a glorious tale or a spicy secret with the right person and it would secure their services or even their loyalty. But with things as they were, she would have to rely on something more solid to keep her secrets to herself. 

The servant smiled reverently. “Please follow me, honored elder.”

Felani let the woman take her across the entrance hall and into a smaller one decked from top to bottom in heavy tapestry. A few dozen elvhen sprawled leisurely on the low couches and chairs that stood throughout the chamber. They mostly kept to themselves, enjoying a glass of wine, nibbling sweets or taking long draughts from smoking pipes, but some were engaged in muffled conversation or lay wrapped together in a moment of shared intimacy. Spirits of desire and joy and love tended to those who wished those feelings to be multiplied, but they were few. Most of them were needed in the upper rooms where the servants tended to the more delicate needs of their clients. 

Sylaise’s serving woman brought Felani to a plush sofa at the back of the room. The fire from a nearby hearth radiated a stifling warmth that made Felani dizzy.

“Might I offer a drink or pipe to pass the time?” she asked. 

“A pipe, yes,” 

“It will be my pleasure.”

Felani stretched out on the couch, head propped up on one head, and regarded her fellow elvhen in the hall. Some cast inquisitive glances at her and turned away hurriedly when they realized she had caught them looking. She didn’t even need to draw energy from the Beyond to notice the air of veneration about them.

The servant returned with a long pipe and lit the mixture of dried herbs within for Felani. “Please enjoy yourself, honored elder,” she cooed and backed away with a bow.

Felani sucked at the pipe and enjoyed a soothing sensation coursing through her blood. She closed her eyes, exhaling a cloud of dense white smoke, and let relaxation claim her. 

“Well, well, look who it is.”

The voice belonged to a man and was all too familiar. It slithered under Felani’s skin and made her stomach churn. 

She opened her eyes and found Las'halani standing only a few paces away. June’s high keeper was clad in a silky sarong that reached down to his ankles but was otherwise undressed. He wore the blood writing of June on his face while his bare chest was covered in tattoos displaying the greatest deeds of his master. The deep-red depictions of June’s greatest creations stood in stark contrast to the myriad of golden bracelets around his wrists. 

Felani took another draught from the pipe and blew a puff of smoke in Las'halani’s direction. His appearance was enticing, designed to cause arousal in everyone in his general vicinity, but she wasn’t so easily fooled. She had mastered the Passage long before Las'halani had even formed as a spirit. There was no trick of his she didn’t know.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here, dear Felani,” he said with a smirk that inspired the urge in Felani to retch right before his bare feet. “You have been working so hard these past few days.”

“What do you want?” she asked, squinting.

“Nothing,” he said and raised his hands in a gesture of fake modesty. “I was concerned about you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

He snapped his fingers and three young elvhen women, all wearing Sylaise’s vallaslin, hurried to his side. Their hands wandered along Las'halani’s chest and arms like snakes curling up in their nest. He drew the face of one woman near and let his tongue flick over her pouting lips. 

“I would share them with you if you like,” he said to Felani without looking at her. His fingers closed around the young woman’s chin, coaxing a soft whimper out of her. Las'halani smirked again and forced the woman to look at her. “A pretty thing, isn’t she?”

“Not interested,” Felani said and exhaled another cascade of curling smoke before setting the pipe aside.

Las'halani frowned and turned his attention back to the girl next to him. “Your bad, my dear,” he said like he was whispering to a lover and cupped her face with both hands. Las'halani kissed her again. Then, with a sharp movement, he snapped her neck.

The two remaining women suppressed a frightened squeal when their fellow servant dropped to the floor, dead. The commotion drew the attention of the other guests. Felani could feel their fear rippling through the Beyond.

Felani was on her feet before she knew it, adrenaline coursing through her blood.

“What are you doing?” she asked harshly.

“Oh, don’t get yourself worked up,” Las'halani said dismissively. “She was a slave, bred to offer pleasure and recreation. What good is a slave when they can not perform their basic duty?”

Slave. The word sent icy shivers down Felani’s spine. When had the gods and their keepers begun to see their people as items they could dispose of whenever they liked?

“You can’t just kill whoever displeases you!” she snapped.

“Oh?” A glimmer sparked in his eyes. “And what if I can?”

Anger flared in her guts and set her blood on fire. In an instant, Felani reached for the magic of the Beyond. Her skin became hot, the veins beneath glowing with the power within. Fire erupted from her fingertips, the flames licking her skin tenderly. 

“I was born from the burning embers in which June forged his first creation,” she growled, the words emerging from her throat like the rumbling thunder of a volcano on the brink of erupting. “You don’t get to intimidate me, Las'halani. If you hadn’t ensnared our master with your twisted words, you wouldn’t have been able to take what should’ve been mine.”

Las'halani’s thin lips pursed into an angry smile.

“You may be the embodiment of His ambition, Felani,” he replied with deadly calm, “but I spark the joy of creation in His heart and I have earned my place at June’s side. To stand against me is to stand against the Master of Crafts himself. Do you really wish to tempt your fate again so soon?”

Felani fought the urge to reach for her regrown arm. The lingering pain in her muscles served as a stark reminder of what June was willing to do, even to her. 

“You–!”

“Honored elders!” A spirit approached hastily, its ethereal form hunched in a way of self-abasement that made Felani’s stomach revolt. It bowed before Las'halani reverently. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.”

Felani eyed the high keeper and waited for the man to unleash his magic on the spirit. After what she had witnessed, she was surprised that he settled for a menacing growl. The two women who still eagerly tried to soothe him with their lingering touches were scared half to death regardless.

The spirit turned to Felani, bowed again, and modulated its voice to sound soft and soothing. “Mhirir will see you now, honored elder. I will bring you to him.”

Felani clenched her fists and glared at Las'halani who gifted her with another wry smile. Oh, how she hated that man.  _ Not now _ , she reminded herself.  _ When the All-Mother has freed you from your bonds, you can make sure he’ll get his comeuppance. Just get your shit together. It’ll be over soon. _

“Gladly,” she said to the spirit and released the magic. The flames that had danced around her fingers extinguished instantly. “Take me to him.”

Felani kept her eyes fixed on the spirit as they left the chamber, not giving Las'halani the satisfaction of seeing her shaken. 

She followed the spirit up a winding staircase that led to the upper floors in the House of Respite. Most of the arched doors that led to various rooms and chambers were locked and sealed with enchantments meant to muffle every sound that might emerge from within. Only a few had been left ajar as if the people inside wanted to be overheard.  _ Or as an invitation,  _ Felani mused. 

Mhirir’s chamber was among the most spacious and luxurious in the entire building. Instead of magical motes, Mhirir preferred wax candles that emitted a vaguely soothing scent and filled the air with a warm light. The room was dominated by a large bed with rich velvet hangings that stood on a low pedestal. On the lower level, a chaise lounge and a series of armchairs were grouped around a low glass table. On top of the table, Felani noticed a fine selection of wines, brandies, tonics, and other recreational substances ready to be used.

“There she is!” a bright voice said. “Welcome back, my dear!”

Mhirir was dressed in a flowing silk robe so low-cut that it left most of his chest bare. He had changed the color of his long hair, which he usually kept in big curls that fell over his shoulders and all the way down to his hips, to a shade of cotton candy. It looked… delicious in the warm candlelight. 

“Shoo!” he said to the spirit with a wavy gesture. “I take it from here.”

The spirit did as commanded and locked the door to Mhirir’s quarters.

“Now, what brings you to me, dear?” Mhirir asked with a smile so wide it threatened to split his face apart. Deep eyes peeked at her, curious. 

Felani felt a smile tugging at her own lips. Mhirir’s presence was so intense and warm, the discomfort of meeting Las’halani was already fading away.

She regarded Mhirir intently, examining his lean body from head to toe. Only then did she realize that his white skin had been modulated as well since she had last seen him. Iridescent scales covered his neck, chest and arms that glistened when he moved.

“Haven’t you guessed?”

“Of course, I have,” Mhirir raised his eyebrows, teasing her with his gaze, “but I want to hear you say it. I like it that way.”

She laughed and walked to meet him. 

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “I could use someone to rub away some of that tension.”

Mhirir’s smile didn’t waver when he reached for her shoulder and traced the lines of her muscles all the way down to her hands. “Oh, you must be aching like mad, my dear. But don’t worry. When you walk out of here, your muscle will be as smooth and soft like you were born yesterday.” He made a suggestive pause. “Any other wishes?”

“Just a bit of tongue and fingers,” she said. “No kisses on the mouth.”

“As you wish.”

Mhirir took her hands and ushered her over to the bed. There he undressed her swiftly, easing away what unrest remained from Felani’s encounter with her high keeper. He nudged her onto the bed and leaned over her to caress her body with his fingers. Neither of them spoke as he began to add gentle kisses to his treatment, placing them carefully on her abdomen and the inside of her thighs.

Felani closed her eyes and let him work his magic, giving herself to the rush of emotions coursing through her. Within minutes, he made her come undone with kisses and gentle touches. But it wasn’t until she felt the smooth movements of his tongue against the sweet spot between her legs that her mind began to wander off completely and the dark thoughts that had consumed so much of her time and energy finally faded.

She dreamt of a night seven hundred years prior when she had been lying naked under a sea of stars. It had been a midsummer's night, when the power of the All-Father was at its peak. The People had been drunk with the promise of the beginning of a new era after having endured a century of grief and mourning, herself included. She still remembered how she and Solas had danced that night and then slipped away to spend some time alone. In the end, they had been a tangled mess of arms and legs, both dying to feel the other and unwilling to ever let go.

Felani bit her lips and held onto the memory. Solas had covered her body with longing kisses, moving over her chest and stomach at an agonizingly slow pace, until he had finally reached her fold. She had been so wet that night, aching for him to take her, and even now the memory of the soft sighs that had escaped Solas’s lips while he licked her was enough to make her skin crawl with desire.

A soft moan fell from her lips when Mhirir pushed two fingers into her and moved them swiftly. She responded to his touch instinctively and synchronized her movements with his. She barely noticed the tension building in her, drowning in bittersweet memories, until her climax flooded her senses.

“You really needed this, my dear, didn’t you?” Mhirir said with a teasing smile. 

“You have no idea,” she said between two agitated breaths.  _ “You have no idea.” _

Mhirir chuckled at her words and slipped away. She watched him walk over to the glass table to fetch a carafe of wine that sat on a finely crafted plate.

“Want one, too?” he asked while he poured himself a drink.

Felani shook her head, drawing in sharp breaths and waiting for her heartbeat to slow down again. She stretched, arms raised across her head, and closed her eyes. The tension in her muscles had finally vanished.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Mhirir noted, the brim of his cup close to his lips, “who were you thinking of when you came?”

Felani raised an eyebrow at him.

“Was it that obvious?”

Mhirir chuckled, the sound muffled by the long sip he took from his cup. “We’ve known each other for how long now, my dear? Three thousand years? Besides, it’s part of my profession to read people’s faces even if they are very good at concealing their emotions.”

Felani let out a soft huff.

“If you want to know the truth,” she said and rubbed her shoulder with one hand, “I was thinking about Solas.”

Mhirir’s brows rose with surprise.

“Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” he exclaimed, amusement curling his lips into a smile. “The Pride of the People, oh my! You really don’t aim low when choosing your lovers. You know that, yes?” He took another swig of wine and sprawled on one of the sitting cushions. “But I didn’t know you were seeing each other again. I was under the impression the two of you had some sort of falling out quite a while ago.”

“We didn’t have a falling out,” she corrected, tight-lipped. “His duties kept him busy, as did mine.”

“Ah, of course.” Mhirir helped himself to more wine. “But you did see each other again.”

“He paid me a visit recently, yes.”

“So the rumors I heard the other day  _ were _ true,” he said in a self-satisfied tone. He regarded her intently while he curled one of his pink locks around a finger. “And?”

Felani pressed her lips together and drew in a frustrated breath. 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Mhirir asked with a frown. Suspicion gleamed in his eyes. “Care to elaborate, my dear?”

Felani wished she could be mad at Mhirir, but the truth was that he had rooted her out. Seeing Solas again after so many years of silence had rekindled a flame she had believed had gone out ages ago.

Centuries had passed since she had spent any amount of time with Solas. After the events at the Refuge, something had changed in him and he hadn’t been so eager to see her again. And she had agreed, thinking it was for the better. They had gotten too attached to each other for her own liking anyway. So she had returned to the Sonallium and buried herself in her work and after a while, she had stopped thinking about him. Until he had shown up in her workshop, she had been certain that whatever they’d shared had been nothing more than an occasional fling with no importance. But when Solas had asked for her help, holding her hands the same gentle way he always had, she had found herself utterly defenseless. She might have helped him regardless of the danger if she hadn’t thought of twisting their conversation into an official deal in time.

But that kiss… She still didn’t know what she had been thinking. Kissing him had given him hope where there better be none. The last thing Solas needed was the possibility of unrequited love tormenting him on his quest. 

And yet…

Felani cleared her throat in an ill-fated attempt to ward off the feeling of guilt and sadness that always tugged at her heart when she thought of Solas.

“He deserves someone who can love him freely,” she said and hated the rasping sound of her own voice. “Someone who would choose him over anything else, no matter what.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. With a snivel, she turned to Mhirir and pursed her lips into a defiant grin. 

“I changed my mind,” she said. “I’d love to have some of that wine.”

Mhirir looked at her for a long moment, assessing her from top to bottom. “Of course,” he said with a sympathetic smile and went to fetch her a glass.

He came over to the bed once more, handed her the drink, and sat down next to her. Felani thanked him and took a careful sip. A velvet berry taste blossomed on her tongue.

Mhirir reached for her with one hand and caught a loose strand of hair. He tugged it behind her ear ever so gently.

“You’re not as abrasive as you think, my dear,” Mhirir said in a soothing tone. “It just takes someone wise enough to understand how your mind works and still love you for who you are.”

Felani huffed a laugh and took a long draught from her wine. “Yeah, maybe.”

Involuntarily, she was reminded of her own words to Las'halani. Born from the burning embers in which June had forged his first creation. That’s what she was. What she had always been. Ambition burned in her heart like a fire that could never be extinguished. It had always urged her to take the roads less traveled and strive for greatness rather than personal comfort. She wanted to be known for the wonders she could craft. And the other smiths had scowled at her for that. She had heard them whisper behind her back, talking about how she made them all look bad and that she was working so hard just to put them all to shame. They had never cared to learn the truth, nor had she cared to share it with them. The truth that she couldn’t stop, even if she tried.

In the countless centuries since she had made her Passage, only Solas had come close to giving her a taste of what true understanding felt like. When she had been in his arms, it had always felt like he could see straight into her soul. As if she was the most fascinating thing in the world to him.

She would be lying if she pretended that she hadn’t missed it, to be held like that. But after she and Solas had bid their goodbyes at the Refuge, she happily had buried this desire deep down. He had already come close enough to be burned by the fire in her soul. She wouldn’t allow it to harm him any further.

Would things change once Mythal had set her free? It was better not to think of it. There was no knowing when she would see Solas again if she ever did. He could die out in the wilderness while he hunted for the Black Dread without anyone knowing. Sweet skies, she herself could meet a horrible death should June ever find out that she crossed him again. As much as she hated to admit it, but her life was in the All-Mother’s hands now. 

Felani took another long draught from her glass, downing the rest of the drink. “Let’s have another one,” she told Mhirir and forced herself to smile, “and make the best of the time that is given to us.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The only way to tell day from night was the slow dying of the light beyond the stain-glass windows that faced the inner sanctum of the Sonallium. And the warm glow had all but vanished when Mhirir got up from the bed again and collected Felani’s clothes for her. 

She was reluctant to leave. Mhirir could tell it by the way her brows furrowed and her gaze lingered. Her fingers worked slowly while she dressed again and fixed her hair back into place. He wondered if that little fantasy of her former lover still haunted her.

“Sleep tight, my dear,” Mhirir said softly, drawing from the energy of the Beyond to wrap her in compassion for a moment. “Maybe you’ll dream something nice tonight.”

“Let’s hope so.” She smiled wryly. “Thank you, my friend.”

When the door closed behind her, Mhirir walked over to the chaise longue to rest and collect his thoughts. It was hard not to feel sorry for Felani. From the way she carried herself, Mhirir knew she felt an incomparable loneliness whenever she returned to her chambers and the shadows of the night closed in around her. No drink or drug or any amount of fleeting pleasure could erase such a simple truth. 

He sighed and stretched out on the chaise longue. He might have rubbed away Felani’s tension, but his body was ready for some rest. It was time to care for himself and let the worries of his clientele drift into the back of his mind again. Evanuris knew, he’d earned it!

His hand hovered over the pipe with the relaxation herbs when the door opened again. A powerful quiver in the Beyond announced the arrival of a powerful elvhen. It reminded him of ash and fire and the cutting edge of a blade. 

Involuntarily, Mhirir smiled.

“Back already, my dear?” he asked without turning, modulating his voice to make it sound like sweet honey dripping from into the ear. “You know that stayover’s cost extra.”

“They don’t for me.”

_ No, that’s impossible!  _ Darkness clawed at Mhirir’s insides.  _ It can’t be him. Please, Sylaise, don’t let it be him. _

In a single motion, Mhirir stood, readjusted his robes and schooled his expression into a soft smirk.

“Las’halani!” he cooed in an attempt to hide his shock. “Please excuse my disheveled look, my dear. I wasn’t expecting more visitors tonight.”

June’s high keeper came closer, golden bracelets around his arms and legs ringing with every step. His pale face was still as a mountain lake, not betraying a single emotion. Eyes as dark as coal regarded him.

Mhirir tried to keep his gaze fixed on the man’s face and resist the urge to step back. Long ago, Las’halani had been a powerful desire spirit. So powerful, in fact, that even the gods were susceptible to his gifts. If the stories were true, he had been the one to kindle the spark of love between June and Sylaise into a roaring fire. Someone who could stir the hearts of the mighty like that was no one to be trifled with. Mhirir had learned that when Sylaise’s high keeper had caught him in a spirit trap and taught him in preparation for the Passage.

Las’halani’s scent, a heavy blend of musk and vanilla and titan’s blood, hurried ahead of him and instilled a sense of fearful lust in Mhirir. He dropped his conscious connection to the Beyond in an instant and focused inward to keep the intoxicating smell from overpowering him.

“What can I do for you, honored elder?”

The high keeper stopped when he was barely an arm’s length from Mhirir. His face was unchanged and his voice remained calm, but the menace in his eyes was all too apparent.

“Is it not obvious?” he asked softly.

Mhirir chuckled, but he knew it sounded hollow. “I’m afraid this is not–”

Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, Las’halani had raised a hand and gripped his chin as firm as a vice. Mhirir’s jaws ached under the unexpected pain.

“I hear our dear Felani is very fond of you,” the high keeper breathed. “They tell me that you know how to give her pleasure and how to ease her conscience.”

“Such is the nature of my profession,” Mhiri said through gritted teeth.

“If you could win the loyalty of someone as changeable as her, you must be a lover of great talent, then.”

“One does not wish to brag.”

Las’halani’s lips curled, not quite a snarl, not quite a smile.

“It sounds like I need to experience some of that exceptional talent myself,” he whispered and leaned in, his lips hovering over Mhirir’s for a moment before he kissed him. They were cool to the touch, like a cube of ice melting. 

Mhirir winced as he felt the high keeper’s thoughts probing for his own in the Beyond. Hot-white pain erupted behind his eyes when Las’halani broke through his defences and images of torn flesh and blood flashed before his mind’s eye. Pain and pleasure, intertwined forever, to paint a picture of terrifying beauty.

“Now,” Las’halani continued with a smile, “shall we begin?”


	15. A Convergence of Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas continues his quest to find the Black Dread until a chance encounter in the wilds puts a stop to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chapter is finally here! Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this. This one needed a lot of editing that so that it took me longer than I expected to finish it. I hope my hard work has paid off, though. Happy reading!

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

The wind picked up while Solas traveled south. The icy chill crept underneath his armor and made his skin crawl. If it weren’t for the meticulously crafted enchantments of his armor, it might have put a stop to his journey. With every passing hour, the sheaths of ice beneath his feet grew thicker and thicker and prompted him to consider each step with great care.

When night came, he made camp in a small cave he discovered and conjured a small fire. The landscape outside had become more rocky, sloping upwards ever so slightly towards the ice-capped mountain ranges that lined the eastern horizon. 

Despite the unforgiving weather or the challenging terrain, it had been relatively easy to follow the Black Dread’s trail. It stained the ice like scorch marks on a pristine marble floor. Solas hadn’t been able to make out any footprints that would give him a clue to the creature’s true nature, but it was clear from the rolling track marks that the Black Dread had walked these lands more than once. They sprawled out from north to south, stark against the white snow, as if it had been stalking the perimeter like a predator defending its territory.

_ It must have a lair somewhere,  _ Solas thought while he held his hands closer to the crackling flames before him and his breath rose from his lips like soft white mist.

He decided that he would follow the tracks further southward the next morning, while he helped himself to a ration from his back and flushed it down with a few gulps from his waterskin. Then he repositioned his backpack to serve as a cushion for the night and went to sleep.

When he awoke again, stale-grey clouds covered the sky. Soon after, snowflakes began to drift downwards and obscure the horizon. 

Solas sighed. He hadn’t slept particularly well. Since that night in the Crossroads, the memory of Geldauran clawing at his chin with bloody fingers kept invading his dreams and evoked a feeling of growing uncertainty. Would he be ready to learn the truth about what the old healer had done once he uncovered the Black Dread’s secret?

What if he wasn’t?

Geldauran had been powerful long before he and his brothers had cast off their title as Evanuris. His curiosity had led him to gather vast knowledge of all living things. Nobody in Elvhenan, save perhaps Mythal and Elgar’nan, were as familiar with the delicate balance of nature as Geldauran had been. While Solas could hear the Song more clearly, Geldauran knew perfectly well which forms it took and how each creature contributed its part to the greater symphony. Sometimes, Solas couldn’t help but wonder if it was this knowledge that had prompted his old friend to challenge the remaining gods.

“The discovery of titan’s blood changes everything!” Geldauran had once told him. “Look at what the Evanuris are doing with it. They consume it like water and gift it to their followers to bring them to heel. Sweet skies, they are using it to give the People the ability to procreate! This is not the way things should be!”

“It is for the best of the People,” Solas had insisted, “as it was foretold in the dream of Elvhenan. Certainly you see nothing wrong with that?”

“And what will happen when your precious Mythal and her fellow Evanuris have finally conquered the world?” the god healer had asked. “ When all elvhen are bound to their will by the blood writing? What atrocities will they commit to keep the power they have gained?”

In those days, Solas had held onto the belief that the gods could be reasoned with as long as the high priests and high keepers and their servants brought the sorrows of the People to their attention. And so he had said to Geldauran, “That is why we exist. We are their eyes and ears. I, for one, have pledged myself to one of them to give good counsel, just like many others. As long as we serve this purpose, the empire is safe.“

But Geldauran had dismissed his words with a simple gesture. “There is no power in servitude, Solas,” he’d said in a grave voice. “Only  _ power _ can challenge power.”

It had been moments like these, engaged in hot debate with a man he had once admired, that Solas had begun to suspect that something was wrong. That someone had to stand up to him. And so he had pretended to be a loyal friend to spy on Geldauran and his brothers. They had welcomed him in their halls and allowed him to walk among their followers and be part of their secrets while nothing but Geldauran’s fondness for Solas had kept them from suspecting duplicity. Now Solas hated himself. Not just for betraying their trust, but for his own lack of imagination. If only he had been able to see how far the Forgotten Ones had been willing to go to bring down the Evanuris…

Solas tried to shake the thoughts and focus on the task at hand. After a short breakfast, he left the cave and picked up the trail where he had left it the night before.

Several hours later, he found the corpses. 

The dead bodies lay scattered as if an explosion had gone off in their midst, ripping them all to shreds. What was left of their clothing was charred, their features beyond recognition. The rest was burned to the bone and robbed of any traces of magical energy.

Bile gathered in Solas’s mouth as he walked closer to investigate. These elvhen had been wearing light armor when they were attacked. Sturdy leather by the looks of it. Some also wore chainmail but it hadn’t protected them from the massive eruption of magic that had claimed their lives. Broken bows, empty quivers, and charred daggers lay among the corpses.

_ Andruil’s hunters, _ he said to himself.  _ Or what is left of them. _

Not far off, behind a small cliff, Solas found even more dead bodies in various states of decay. Going by their armor and weaponry, he guessed that they had all belonged to the same hunting party, but that some had managed to escape the Black Dread longer than others. 

It was not the burned flesh or the mutilated faces of the dead that got to him, though, but the sheer amount of people who had lost their lives to the greed of one creature. He counted over two dozen hunters that lay dead in the icy wasteland and there was no knowing if there were more.

_ I can’t leave them like this,  _ he thought bitterly as the cold wind tore at him. He wasn’t sure if it was the snowdrift that veiled his vision, or tears.

He put his backpack down, storing it safely nearby, and got to work with grim determination. First, he carried the dead hunters back to the remains of the others, then he lined them all up in a row. He retrieved as many weapons as he could find and laid them into the hands of the hunters or if their bodies were too badly mutilated, he placed them carefully at their side. When he was done, he stood before the row of corpses. There was not much to be done about them. They would never rest in the Eternal Dream, their bodies reserved safely in the Halls of the Dead. But he could perform the Rite of Departure regardless to honor their sacrifice. 

Nightfall was already upon him when he finally finished carving the required runes in the darkened ice around the corpses. The temperature was dropping quickly and had already turned the sharp wind into an icy weapon. Solas inhaled deeply, feeling the cold air in his lungs, and closed his eyes. His muscles ached and his hands were all but numb from the effort of carving the runes. It was best to continue his work the next morning.

He made camp underneath a rock that protruded over the edge of a hole in the ground. Curled up in his bedroll, he closed his eyes and waited for exhaustion to claim him. It didn’t take long for dark and dreaming sleep to seize control. Images of Geldauran, doused in blood, mingled with the memories of elvhen going down in flames. 

The nightmare stuck with him when he awoke again at first light. Freezing, numb, and overcome with a sense of bitter sadness, he returned to the fallen hunters he had lined up the day before. Some of the runes were covered with snow that had fallen during the night. He exposed them again by conjuring a soft breeze that brushed away the snow, then poured the energy of the Beyond into the runes themselves. They lit up in a bright blue light as the magic gained a foothold in the Waking World. Within minutes, the spell drew moisture from the air and transformed it into a shell of ice that closed over the fallen hunters like a crystalline sarcophagus. All the while, Solas mumbled the words from the Rite of Departure he remembered from his studies in the Vir Dirthara and spilled a few drops from his waterskin for each of his brethren. It was a sad, pitiful display, but it was the best he could do.

It was then that his grief was overshadowed by deep anger that flared in his guts that made him forget the bitter cold around him. These had been Andruil’s people, her most loyal hunters. They had pledged themselves to her, not only to follow but to be protected. It was unbelievable that Andruil had left them where they had fallen while she had run back to Arlathan. She might claim before all Evanuris that she had done it to save herself and bring her mother and father news of the Black Dread, but leaving her people to rot away like that could only be considered one thing:  _ despicable. _

_ No madness can excuse this. _

Before he knew it, he clenched his fists and fought back angry tears burning in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he wished he had taken Andruil up on her offer to accompany him to the south. He’d loved to hear what the so-called goddess would have to say for herself.

Solas sunk to his knees, his hands clenched into fists and listened as an eerie silence fell upon the world.

Until a long howl filled the air.

He turned around, taking in his surroundings.

There were twenty wolves with fur so black they seemed to have emerged from the Black Dread’s marks. And they watched him, pervading the air with a sense of immediate danger. 

Slowly, one of the wolves came closer. It was bigger than the rest of the pack. Strands of grey fur lined the side of its head and its icy-blue eyes seemed to cut right into Solas.

Solas stood, setting aside his backpack and supplies carefully. Then he raised his hands every so slowly to indicate his intentions.

_ “I enter this place in peace,” _ he said, modulating his voice with the energy of the Beyond. Millenia had passed since he had learned the languages of the wolves. He had still been a spirit then, eager, but not fully formed, but he still remembered what he had learned. Wolves were practical creatures. If they knew that he wasn’t a threat, they would leave him in peace.

The pack leader trod closer, its head cocked to one side. It regarded Solas intently, and he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The wolf turned to the rest of its pack, raising its nose, and howled again.

Then the wolves charged.

Solas's stomach dropped. The pack came for him, covering the distance between them with incredible speed. He had to act quickly.

Relying entirely on his instincts, Solas shifted into a fighting stance and opened his mind to the magic of the skies. Green mist danced around him as he gave himself to the Beyond, its energy filling him up to the brim. He warped the Beyond into flames and formed them into a fireball. When the wolves were close enough, he released the magic, casting a wall of fire that reached seven feet into the air. 

The pack leader snarled, commanding the remaining wolves to go around the fiery barrier, while it picked up speed, charging at Solas directly. Its mighty paws thundered on the blackened earth. Dust whirled around the beast when it jumped through the firewall and landed before Solas completely unscathed. 

Solas dodged the leaders’ attack, rolling over and drawing Felani’s blade from the scabbard at his belt in a single movement. The metal sang as he turned to face the pack leader.  _ “I don’t want to fight you,” _ he said, enhancing his voice with the Beyond so that his words echoed in both layers of reality.

The only answer was a deep growl.

Solas stepped sideways, casting a fireball at the pack leader. Behind him, the remaining wolves encircled him, drooling and barking. In a heartbeat, Solas drew the surrounding energy of the Beyond toward him to create a magical shield. It would protect him from a few attacks, but not all of them. That much he knew.

With his free hand, he reached to the skies and called their power down to him once more. A moment later, meteorites of raw energy peppered the ground. The wolves howled in surprise, then scattered in all directions. Three beasts stumbled and fell, dropping dead with their skulls smashed in from Solas’s spell. 

Solas had no time to regret his actions. The pack leader was at him again, and he angled his blade to meet the wolf’s attack. He aimed for its side but the wolf was too fast. It flung itself at Solas, clawing at his armor, and sank its teeth into the vambraces. The onslaught made Solas lose his footing, knocking him to the ground. He landed on his back, and the impact drew the breath from his lungs. Warm saliva covered his face as the pack leader let go of his arm and lowered its head over his.

“Stop,” Solas urged the creature, modulating his voice once more. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And once more, the wolf ignored him. It barked and dug its long teeth into the pauldron of Solas’s armor. The force with which the beast tore at it reverberated in his body. Solas tried to push the wolf away with his hands, but it only fought more vigorously.

_ I have no choice. _

“I’m sorry,” he said while amassing magical energy around him. With a blast of air and thunder, he repulsed the pack leader. It landed with a painful howl, and the other wolves answered in kind.

They were incredibly close. Solas could feel the warmth of their bodies despite the cold. He got back up on his feet and let the Beyond take over. Another mind blast threw the entire pack backward, blowing up dust in a wide radius. He heard the wolves whimper as some were bruised and others broke their legs when they landed. 

But it still wasn’t enough. 

As soon as the wolves were back on their feet, they coordinated again, coming at him from all sides at once. No matter how fast he cast his spells or how elegantly he slashed through the pack with his blade, the wolves would bring him down eventually.

They closed in on him, rendering him unable to move, and bit and clawed at his armor furiously. In a combined effort, they tore at the metal, ripping it apart piece by piece. Solas clenched his teeth as he brought down his blade on his attackers. Charged with magic, the sword was ablaze with fire and cut through the wolves without effort. Blood sprayed and he tasted bile in his mouth. Dead beasts dropped around him, as the remaining pack robbed him of his pauldron and breastplate. They bit down on the metal and tossed it aside with rage and revulsion.

Solas braced himself, waiting for them to go for his legs and arms. But they didn’t. After they had disposed of one piece of his armor, they went on to sink their teeth and claws into the next, as if they wanted to strip him of it.

_ It’s the armor, _ Solas noticed.  _ They’re after the armor! _

Suddenly, it all seemed so painfully obvious. Andruil herself had told him that she had traveled these lands with her hunters in search of the Black Dread, and she had been corrupted with a new madness in doing so. 

Certainly, the wolves had witnessed Andruil’s transformation or at least made a connection between the creature and the goddess and her party. And now, another elvhen appeared to follow in Andruil’s footsteps, wearing the same armor that she had.

No wonder they saw him as a threat.

“Wait!” Solas yelled, casting another blast that drove the wolves back. They landed violently, dazed by the impact. Before they had the chance to regain their footing and charge at him again, Solas dropped his sword and took off his gauntlets. He tossed them aside, then removed the greave and cuisse on his legs. He was fumbling with the vambrace when the leader let out a long, high-pitched howl.

And just like that, the wolves backed away. 

Solas breathed a sigh of relief and divested himself of the remaining armor and chainmail. Clothed in nothing more than the simple shirt and pants he had worn underneath the armor, he got to his knees and held out a hand. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated. 

The pack leader stalked closer, sniffing and smelling. Solas waited for the wolf to make its assessment, panting heavily. He hadn’t noticed how much he exerted himself in the fight until then.

The wolf growled and looked at him.

_ ‘You are different from the others.’ _

The wolf’s mouth remained still, but its voice echoed in the Beyond. Solas could hear it in his mind, as long as he maintained his connection with the magic. The sound had a masculine quality to it.

_ ‘You can call me Leader,’ _ the wolf told him.  _ ‘You will come with us.’ _

* * *

Leader and his pack made a home for themselves in a cave system that tunneled a range of ice-covered hills a few miles from where Solas had found the remains of Andruil’s hunters. 

The wolves had allowed Solas to retrieve his backpack and bedroll but had demanded that he leave the armor where he had dropped it. When he asked why they wanted him to abandon a finely crafted piece like that, they didn’t respond. And so he abandoned the query, and the armor, then followed them, shaking and shivering from the cold, and relied on his magic to keep him warm. 

_ ‘We will take care of you once we reach the lair,’ _ Leader promised.

When they finally got there, the cold had seeped into Solas’s body and straight into his bones despite his best efforts. He was exhausted from carving the runes for the dead hunters, fighting the wolves and the extended use of magic. He needed to rest and replenish his strength, and soon.

The entrance to the cave system was narrow and dark, barely broad enough for three wolves walking side by side. Leader stepped in first, followed by a cluster of young hunters that were fiercely loyal to the old wolf. Solas walked with the largest bulk of the pack, listening to their heavy panting and snarling sounds. They barked and growled at each other occasionally and Solas caught wisps of their emotions in the Beyond. The wolves were frightened, but not by him. If anything, they saw him as a curiosity.

Behind the narrow entrance, the cave opened up into a larger cavern with ridges along the walls and stalactites peering down from the ceiling. The air was surprisingly warm, but also thick with moisture. The scent of sweat, blood and spent breath hung in the air. Instinctively, Solas breathed more shallowly and inspected his surroundings further. He could see juvenile wolves lounging on the narrow ridges along the entrance. Some were sleeping with their heads resting on their forelegs, others were standing up, their ears erect, when they noticed Leader and his pack returning.

Leader gave a low growl that Solas interpreted as some kind of greeting. Then the old wolf made his way to a niche in the stone. He ordered Solas to stay there until he returned.  _ ‘I have to speak to the others,’ _ the wolf announced before he trotted off. The rest of the hunters followed on his heels.

Solas could feel the eyes of the younger wolves on him as he took off his backpack and rummaged through his supplies looking for something he could use to start a fire. He still had a few pieces of wood he’d collected for his campfire the night before and he piled them neatly before him. With a wisp from the Beyond, he set the wood aflame and kindled it until the fire was burning merrily on its own. Then he pulled a bit of food from his supplies and ate it, regarding his surroundings. The juvenile wolves were still watching him carefully, not sure what to make of him. Somewhere to his left, deeper into the cave, he could hear wet chewing sounds. Undoubtedly the rest of the pack feasting on a recent kill.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Leader finally returned to the entrance. The old wolf appeared from one of the caves with a pair of female companions at his side. The she-wolves seemed as wizened as Leader was. They had the same keen look in their eyes when they assessed Solas.

Leader stopped and spoke to his companions in a low voice. Solas was able to catch a few words from the Beyond, but couldn’t make sense of them.

The two female wolves howled and turned to retreat into the shadows once more. Soon after, they returned carrying the limp body of another wolf. The body was too small to have belonged to a fully grown specimen. Another juvenile, then. Solas drew in a long shuddering breath. There was no life left in the young wolf's body. 

The two females carried the dead wolf over to the fire and placed it carefully on the ground. Solas swallowed hard, staring at the juvenile. What was the meaning of this?

Leader looked at Solas, not missing a nuance of his reaction, then sent the two females away to return to their duties.

_ ‘Our brother died from his injuries two nights prior,’  _ Leader told him.  _ ‘Soon, his body will begin to rot.’ _

Solas frowned.

“Such is the way of things,” he said more grimly than he had intended. “There is nothing I can do to reverse his death.’

Leader’s eyes narrowed. Solas wondered what the wolf thought of him. 

_ ‘The elvhen still cloak themselves in wolfskin, don’t they?’  _ Leader asked after a long moment. 

That was when Solas finally realized that the old wolf was offering the dead body to him.

“I cannot take his hide!”

_ ‘Why not?’ _

Solas thought about all the wolves whose lives he had ended, feeling a pang of remorse settling in his guts. Leader, on the other hand, didn’t seem to carry any grudges. Or if he did, he was very good at concealing his emotions.  _ Wolves are practical creatures, _ Solas reminded himself and felt a wry smile tug at his lips.  _ They don’t dwell on doubt. They don’t scheme. They only care about what is right in front of them. _

It was a purer form of existence. One that was free of the pains of the past, and free of fear for the future. Solas couldn’t help but envy the wolves. Had he remained a spirit, he might have been as carefree as they were, but as an elvhen he was bound to feel the passing of time and all the pain that entailed.

“I already took too much from you,” Solas said apologetically.

Leader looked at him for a long moment.

_ ‘Consider this a gift from my pack.’ _

Begrudgingly, Solas accepted. Under Leader’s watchful eye, he pulled a knife from his backpack and got to work. His hands were still shaking from the cold as he began to strip the pelt from the dead wolf’s body, but he paid it no mind. With the aid of the Beyond, he was able to remove the skin without spilling the wolf’s blood. Afterwards, he cleaned the pelt with a few splashes of water and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Leader growled at his pack. An order, Solas suspected, because the young wolves that had been guarding the entrance immediately retreated deeper into the caves. Solas remained silent as they became one with the shadows.

Once they were alone, Leader let out a snarl and sat down on his haunches. His icy blue eyes regarded Solas mercilessly.

_ ‘Why have you come here?’ _ , the wolf asked.

“I'm here to hunt for the Black Dread,” Solas replied truthfully. “It poses a terrible threat and has killed many of my people, both spirit and elvhen. I have been tasked with ending its reign of terror.”

Leader regarded him for a long moment.

_ ‘Come,’ _ the wolf said.  _ ‘I want to show you something.’ _

The wolf stood and made his way to the back of the cave as well. Solas followed him, carefully groping his way forward in the thickening darkness. When his eyes failed him completely, he reached for the Beyond with his mind and conjured a tiny flame to light his way. It danced on the palm of his hand as he followed Leader deeper into the caves. The sounds of the pack – the feeding of the pups, the growls and howls of bickering youngsters, the low snarls of elders – were more intense here. Solas took it in, trying to picture the pack in its entirety. It had to be a fairly large congregation, a few dozen wolves at least, possibly more. Packs of that size were not unheard of, but considering the harsh weather and the lack of large game to hunt, Solas was still surprised they were so many.

Soon after, Solas and Leader reached an intersection in the cave system. Going by the noise to their right, Solas suspected that the wolves had set up camp there. That was not where Leader was taking him, though. The old wolf trotted to a narrow gap to their left and slipped through. Solas had to turn sideways to shuffle through the opening and follow the wolf.

The ground lowered as they ventured on. Soon after, they entered a tiny cavern that reeked of death and decay. Solas fought the urge to gag when the biting scent reached his nostrils.

“What is this place?” he asked.

The big wolf trotted to a pit that the pack had dug at the center of the cavern. In it lay more dead wolves. Their bodies were broken, their flesh burned from their skin. Black bones lay scattered around. Solas recognized smashed-in skulls and twisted spines.

_ ‘This Black Dread has killed many of my kind, too,’ _ Leader told him.  _ ‘We have tried to hunt it down, but the creature is too strong for us.’  _

Solas picked up a bone from the ground beside the pit and examined it. The fragment was part of a jawbone by the looks of it, but most of the teeth were missing. Instead, it was marred by the magic that had killed the wolf. Solas brushed his thumb over the bone’s surface and thought of the people who had lost their lives to the Black Dread.

Leader nodded towards the dead wolves in the pit. 

_ ‘These were my best fighters,’  _ he said. _ ‘The Black Dread brought them down like it was nothing.’ _

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Solas said and meant it.

_ ‘We have retreated to this stronghold to keep the pups safe,’  _ Leader went on _ . ‘It’s as far away from the creature’s lair as we dare to go. This is our territory, still. Our home.’ _

Solas racked his brain for something to say, something that didn’t sound hollow or ingenuine. The old wolf was clearly concerned about the well-being of his kind. They had that in common, in a way.

“Wait!” Solas said when another thought came to mind. “Does that mean⎯you know where the Black Dread’s lair is?”

_ ‘Yes,’ _ Leader admitted reluctantly.

“Can you take me there?”

The wolf considered his request for a moment. 

_ ‘You said that you wanted to end the Black Dread’s reign,’  _ Leader muttered. _ ‘Why do you think you can destroy this creature? What makes you so certain that you will come out victorious when so many have died fighting it?’ _

Solas swallowed.

“Because I have to.”

He truly wished he’d had a better answer. Something that sounded more competent or reassuring. But the truth was that he had no way of knowing whether or not he could win. He had to defeat the Black Dread or die trying. There were no other options.

Leader let out a snarl that might have been a resigned sigh if he were an elvhen. 

_ ‘I will take you to the Black Dread’s lair,’  _ he said,  _ ‘but I will not risk any more lives besides my own. Once we reach our destination, I will leave you to your own devices. If you return to these lands or bring the Black Dread’s wrath upon my kin, I will kill you myself.’ _

“Of course,” Solas replied. “I’m grateful for your help.’

Silence. Solas couldn’t blame the wolf. He did what he believed was best for those he cared about. Another trait they shared. The thought brought a sardonic smile to Solas’s lips. Of all the creatures that walked the face of Thedas, he’d never thought to feel such kinship with an old wolf.

_ ‘We leave at sunrise,’ _ Leader said. _ ‘You should rest and eat to maintain your strength. I will tell the youngsters to clear a space for you. We will watch over you while you sleep.’ _

Solas thanked him once again.

“May I keep this?”, he asked, holding up the jawbone.

Leader’s ears twitched and he gave him a quizzical look. 

_ ‘Why would you do this?’ _

“It will remind me what I'm fighting for,” Solas said. “Not just my own people, but for spirits and wolves and every other living creature.”

More silence. Then a deep rumble emerged from the wolf’s throat as he gave in.

_ ‘Take it if you wish,’ _ the wolf said.  _ ‘Whatever good it may do you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Come find me on [Tumblr](https://in-arlathan.tumblr.com) if you like. If you'd like to learn more about my writing and how to support me, you can learn more about that [here](https://in-arlathan.tumblr.com/post/189454767326/da-fanfiction-masterpost). I'd love to hear from you. ♥︎


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